Guardians
by WarHorse72
Summary: Twilight always knew the military wasn't wanted by most ponies. But it takes a trip to Stalliongrad going wrong for her to realize just how much they kept order and safety in Equestria regardless. Grimdark and hints of Twilight/OC if you squint.
1. Chapter 1: City of Steel

**Guardians**

**Chapter 1: The City of Steel**

Twilight had never actually set foot outside of Canterlot before Princess Celestia had transferred her to Ponyville. She'd hadn't really felt the urging or had the time to leave so long as her studies were most important, but the move had done her a lot of good. While the acclimation process had been aggravating (hair-raisingly so), the bookworm had plenty of new friends to ease her into the place and teach her several valuable things about friendship. And while she had familiarized herself with the stories of all the regions and cities of Equestria (ranging from the small ones like Trottingham and Hoofington to the enormous places like Manehattan and Fillydelphia) she hadn't set foot in many aside from Appleloosa. So, needless to say, Stalliongrad took her a little by surprise.

"I don't get it," Spike remarked, frowning as he and Twilight stepped off the train and onto the departure platform, raised up several stories and supported by iron girders. The structure afforded a good view of a large part of the city, and even though it was currently snowing mildly several of the more famous buildings such as the Equestria National Medical Institute and the Experimental Theater were still distinguishable.

Spike leaned up to the railing and looked out at the skyline, blackened but still blue thanks to the work of the city's local Environmental Brigade, Pegasi who worked around the clock to keep the city still at the minimum Clear Skies limit. Still, it didn't help considering what most of the city was.

"There's so many factories here. Even Manehattan isn't this bad, and it's got three times Stalliongrad's population." The infant dragon huffed, sending a plume of flame into the air that turned a small bit of falling snow into warm vapor.

Twilight had dressed warmly, remembering to bring a nice warm saddle, scarf and boots. Stalliongrad was much further north of Canterlot, and as such was subject to extreme drops in temperature, making such attire almost required to even set foot in the city.

"All those things that are made for us ponies have to be built somewhere, Spike," she remarked, idly blowing a forelock out of her eyes. "Stalliongrad contains all of Equestria's industry, and the workers here make their living off the imports of raw materials and the exports of finished goods to places such as Canterlot, Cloudsdale and even Ponyville. There's a lot of things that can't be produced locally in the towns, and Stalliongrad grew from that." Twilight looked out over the city with something akin to a mix of curiosity and sadness. "These ponies lead quite simple lives. Work, go to sleep. They're not very bothered by things at large."

Spike snorted in typical Spike fashion. "Booooring. Seriously, that's all they do? Why don't they just power the factories with magic? Be so much simpler and free a lot of those workers from a life filled with nothing but two dull things. Although sleep is alright..."

Here, Twilight glared down at Spike, who seemed oblivious to her. "Spike, if we were to remove these ponies from their jobs, where would they go? What would they do? How would they get their bits? And let's not mention the dragons and their loss of horde-"

"Wait! Did you just say dragons live here?" Spike abruptly seemed –very- interested in what Twilight had to say, staring up at her with wide eyes. She shrugged, unable to resist the chance to run her studies through her brain. "It's a favored place of adolescent dragons for the warmth and potential wealth. Dragons don't buy much, so they usually save their earnings as the beginning of their hordes. The place is also famous for several cafes that cater only to dragons with gemstones they buy from the quarries."

Not surprisingly, Spike's attitude suddenly took a complete turnaround, and he grinned, sticking a thumbs-up into the air. "Alright! Sign me up, I say we go to one of those places right now!"

Twilight sighed, knowing she shouldn't have divulged that little bit of information to her miniscule draconian companion. "No, Spike. This isn't a social call, remember? We're here to meet with the head of the Worker's League and discuss difficulties in Princess Celestia's stead."

And just like that, Spike did another about-face with his mood, his shoulders slumping and his brow dragging down. "Fine. Let's get this over with…"

However, as they descended the stairs to reach the main station and thus their gateway into the city, Twilight noticed something a little strange awaiting them by the entrance. A single pony was standing next to a large white cardboard sign with 'Twilight Sparkle and Guest' written on it in what looked to be some kind of paint. While Spike fumed about being the 'Guest' and therefore not important enough for his actual name ("It's the same amount of letters, for crying out loud!") the unicorn inspected the pony from a distance, noting that he wasn't like the others around them.

Most ponies in Stalliongrad were earth ponies, like Ponyville, and not even the large amounts of moving and intermixing of culture had changed that fact. The stallion (or colt, she wasn't sure of his age) that had caught her attention was a gray-skinned pony with a mane and tail as dark as coal, both of which were trimmed short. He was definitely an earth pony; there was nowhere to hide his horn or wings thanks to his attire. Thanks to Stalliongrad's climate it was absolute foolhardiness to go outside without at least a coat on, but he wore a blue padded vest over a simple long sleeved shirt, goggles over his eyes and what appeared to be a helmet on his head.

"A soldierpony?" she muttered, tilting her head to the side as she scrutinized the stallion awaiting their arrival. He was standing rock-steady, his head staring right at them, though the goggles kept his eyes obscured. The vest, then, must be a combat piece, and the shirt his fatigues. Twilight had, of course, studied Equestria's history extensively, but when she'd learned that the Army hadn't been deactivated like the Air Force and Magic Corps had been in the few hundred years since the last war, she'd done a little digging in her texts.

Spike snorted. "What's the military even doing in Stalliongrad? We're miles from the griffon border. It's not like we need them anyway."

"Spike, soldiers perform other tasks than fighting. Sometimes if a situation gets too out of hand for the local police, the army will step in to help. Manehattan, Fillydelphia, all the major cities keep an active garrison of regular army and at least a few companies of reserves in case things ever get out of hand."

"Out of hand, right." Here, Spike snorted again, his obvious disdain at not going for gemstones obviously weighing down his attitude. "Think about it, Twilight. We solve pretty much every problem in and around Ponyville without –any- police at all. And I doubt the rest of Equestria is so feeble they can't take care of themselves. Is the army even –needed- anymore?"

Of course it was. They provide protection and security to the land, as well as jobs for those who need them. Well, that's what Twilight would have said if she hadn't stopped her automatic response and genuinely thought about what Spike was saying. Most ponies in Equestria felt safe enough as is, and stayed away from places they didn't…mostly (the memories of the numerous occasions in the Everfree Forest came to mind) and jobs were quite simple to come across. If they weren't, one was made for them out of sheer courtesy.

Were these soldiers actually needed? Or were they simply a relic from the past?

Before she could answer her dragon assistant, she turned her head back, intending to glance at the trooper pony again, only to be shocked at finding him right in front of her all of a sudden.

"Ma'am? You're Twilight Sparkle, correct?" His voice was curt, crisp and full of deference. As a regular pony, she had very little power. As Princess Celestia's star pupil, however, she had quite a reputation. If the army sent someone to meet her, they would undoubtedly show them what she looked like. Fortunately, she managed to compose herself enough to smile and answer.

"Yeah, I am. Pleasure to meet you. This is Spike, my assistant."

"Sup?" asked the dragon in question, looking quite bored and uninterested in their greeter.

Twilight tilted her head to the side, ignoring Spike's foul manners as she said "We're here on official business. What's your name?"

"Oh, pardon me." The soldier reached up, pushing his goggles over the brim of his helmet before he smiled and held out his hoof. "Private Stop, Royal Army. Nice to meet you, ma'am."

He seemed like a polite enough colt, so she reached out, shaking hooves with him as she replied "Please, just call me Twilight. You're making me feel old. Stop's an interesting name, though."

He blushed a little, grinning sheepishly as he grunted awkwardly. "It's uh, my last name. Short Stop, see?"

Short Stop turned a little, showing off his flank and the ball and bat cutie mark upon it. "Most of my family played professionally."

Twilight knew of the sport, but only had a loose grasp on the status of the games worldwide. "What about you?"

Here, however, Short Stop became a bit fidgety, and seemed to draw back into himself. "Well, it's family tradition…anyway, I bet you're wondering why I'm here. I was assigned to be your liaison for your visit here. I'll take care of all your needs and help you out with negotiations around here."

"Liaison? What's that?" Spike asked, not giving this stranger any sense that the baby dragon was truly interested whatsoever.

Fortunately, it was Twilight that answered, drawing at least a little of her assistant's attention. "It's sort of like you, Spike. Except liaisons are short term and usually drawn from the local people. Speaking of which," here she turned back to Short and asked "Why do we need one? I'm just going to talk to the head of the Worker's League. It's not like I'm trying to negotiate with the dragons." Now that she thought about it, a liaison could have helped with that one dragon who'd been smogging up Equestria during his nap, but Fluttershy had come through in the end, so no use in starting What If's.

Short answered quickly and curtly, as seemed to be his base attitude. "Beg pardon, but ponies from other cities aren't respected much around here. Stalliongrad just doesn't take outsiders seriously. I'm supposed to be there to give you guys some credit and smooth things over."

Twilight frowned anew, puzzled by the statement. Ponies were ponies. It wasn't like the interspecies negotiations involving the griffons or dogs from across the borders, or even trying to talk down a dragon.

"I think I have plenty of credit, uh…Private. I'm Princess Celestia's star pupil. Surely I can at least convince them to talk to me."

Short didn't look convinced, raising a black eyebrow to hide underneath the brim of his helmet, but to his credit he at least gave way and didn't pursue the topic.

"Alright. Do you want me to call for a steam wagon? The League's quartered only a short distance away, but I figure you might appreciate the ride."

Twilight smiled again, thankful he wasn't a bitter stallion, and trotted past into the snowy streets, saying "No thanks. I just spent six hours cooped up in a metal box. I'd like to stretch my legs a little for the short time we'll be here."

Spike, however, objected very strongly. "But Twilight! It's so freaking cold out here!"

* * *

><p>Stalliongrad had a rugged beauty to it, as the strong, old brick walls stretched above her head. It took her a little while to finally realize that there were residences, hotels and other shops squeezed between the factories, so similarly were they built that she suspected they had all belonged to one enormous building and simply built down into as time went on. Her books had said that the entire city had been carefully planned, but had been suspiciously vague about what extents the architects had gone to.<p>

Still, for a business trip, the place was indeed nice to watch. Worker ponies seemed to at least keep a measure of spirit despite their rather grim surroundings, and it was obvious that while they weren't completely happy they were at least content.

It wasn't just ponies on the street, either. Occasionally, a small group of dragons ranging anywhere from Spike's size to as tall as the buildings around them walked past, separating the crowds around them as the reptiles went on their way. Spike waved hi to these groups, and while they were polite enough to wave and smile, they didn't engage in his casual banter at all. Eventually, the baby dragon simply gave up, more content to sulk as he followed in Twilight's wake next to Short.

Things were starting to get a little awkward for the purple unicorn. The longer she stayed in this city, the more she felt like all the happiness and soul was being sucked out of her surroundings. The buildings were becoming drab, the sky turning grey and the ponies around her were becoming more and more depressed, and she began to stick out like a sore hoof. She needed a distraction. Quickly.

She glanced back at Short before saying "So, Short. I notice you don't have a gun-yoke on. Aren't you on active duty?"

He nodded, a small smile of understanding gracing his features, causing her to blink once or twice. He wasn't that bad looking, really. And he was definitely in top shape…

"We're not allowed to carry weapons outside the garrison. Standard Equestrian law. Unless there is an imminent invasion, riot or we're transporting equipment to another site, lethal equipment cannot leave the allotted area. It's the same as every other city."

"Oh," said Twilight, remembering that she had read up on the institution of that law after the Pie Riots when sixteen ponies and four soldiers had become wounded during a heated exchange. Fortunately, no one had died, but the army had been completely at fault for firing on a crowd without issuing a warning. As such, no carrying weapons.

Fortunately, Short didn't miss a beat, continuing right on as though he were oblivious of Twilight's embarrassment (or maybe he really was). "We may not be right on the border with the griffons but we do sometimes still get problems occasionally."

At this, the unicorn's ears perked up. "Problems? What kind? Surely it can't be too bad if Princess Celestia hasn't been informed, right?"

To her surprise, Short shook his head. "Actually, I don't think the mayor reports them to Canterlot. We get a few bands of no-gooders occasionally that need to be chased out. Mostly diamond dogs, nothing to ever really worry about."

Spike's expression at the words diamond dogs was nothing less than a furious scowl, obviously looking to exact some vengeance for Rarity's capture and forced labor, even if she did get herself out of it. Twilight ignored her assistant and his muttered curses, instead focusing on the issue at hand.

"Mostly? How often do they come by?"

Before Short could answer, however, there was an enormous _CRASH _up ahead, and a wooden produce stand split in half as an enormous bulldog tore through it from behind as though the wood was nothing more than tissue paper. Behind it, from the alleyway the stand had hidden, a group of dogs poured out, spreading out and snarling as they began tackling ponies, searching them roughly before moving on.

"Quite often, actually," replied Short in an annoyed tone.

* * *

><p>(Warhorse here folks! As you may or may not have determined, this is my first fic as a brony, and as such is my experimentation into the world of MLP:FiM. To those of you who are dedicated bronies, I hope you enjoy the fic thus far and can forgive me if I make one or two canon or character errors here and there. I've studied long and hard for this and put my best into it.<p>

Anyway, love it, hate it, just don't flame it! Leave your comments and questions in the review section, and I'll be sure to get back to you as quick as I can!)


	2. Chapter 2: A Narrow Escape

(Hoo-eee y'all! Who'd have figured this story would blow up like it has! I'm glad to see that everyone is liking the fic so far, and the reviews have been enough to keep me going!

Response time!

ig40kman: I do indeed plan to submit this story after this chapter is in. It's actually the main reason I wrote it.

DoctorWhooves: that is exactly what I was aiming for, and I'm glad you caught on to it very fast. Whenever I write, I like to stay as close as possible to canon, so finding a way to wrap it all together was the darndest thing for me!

paxtofettel: Thanks, but I'd actually heard the name Stalliongrad mentioned before in another fic called the Twilight War. I believe it is still ongoing, and I recommend you go read it. It explores a full-blown, war-torn future for the mane cast that, while seeming a little ridiculous, draws you in nonetheless.

paulinaghost: As the last reviewer for the last chapter, you get the golden kewpie doll! yay! *Pinkie Pie throws a party* But yes, it does get a little repetitive to see the same thing time and time again, even if the writing is spot on and brilliant. I thank you for your kind words.

Now folks, this is where it ventures into the grim-dark. I wrangled with this chapter forever to keep it incorporated in the pony-verse, and I can't honestly tell myself that I succeeded. However, I'm hoping that your opinion is different, and you enjoy the next piece! Next update in less than a week, guaranteed!)

* * *

><p><strong>Guardians<strong>

**Chapter 2: A Narrow Escape**

To say that Twilight had never been faced with danger would be an outright lie. She'd battled creatures numerous times that could have killed her or her friends in an instant. She knew how to handle herself in a crisis situation.

But then why was she currently standing stock still as the rampaging canines charged closer and closer to her, paws and claws outstretched and jowls hanging, ropes of disgusting saliva streaming from yellowing teeth…

Regardless, it was Short who snapped her out of it. Just as the first dog was about to leap onto her, no doubt to frisk her and look for her gemstones, a flash of grey came out of nowhere, and the dog was suddenly reeling backwards to the snow-covered street, twin horseshoe-shaped bruises already forming under the jaw.

"C'mon!" the trooper yelled, pushing Twilight aside, to which she acquiesced almost immediately, galloping full pelt into a nearby café as Spike scuttled along after them. Coming out was an older stallion, one who looked ready to go back to work, his hard hat already back on his head. Unfortunately, the horse was bowled over as a unicorn and Earth pony slammed into him, throwing him back into the shop as Spike slammed the door shut. Every pony in the place was staring at the trio, and Twilight suddenly found herself at a loss for words, feeling the fixed eyes of over a dozen bewildered eaters.

Once again, however, it seemed Short had things under control. "Alright, no need to panic folks," he announced, stepping forward so the entire crowd could focus on him. "We've got a small problem outside. The police will arrive any minute, and we can then get out of your manes, okay? In the meantime, please enjoy your lunch. Sorry to disturb you."

He turned back, his reassuring tone gone as he said, quietly so only Twilight could hear him, "You know any combat magic?"

She frowned, not sure she understood the question. "Uh…."

"Y'know. Battle magic. Spells made for the express purpose of incapacitating or eliminating your enemy?" Short looked at her beseechingly, trying to get across how badly he wanted a 'yes' from her, but knowing she wouldn't have it.

"I thought you said the problem was 'small.' What happened to that?" she replied, desperate to change topics.

Outside, a gunshot boomed, and a chorus of victorious howls echoed up and down the streets, making every pony in the building cry out and seek shelter or simply sit there, shivering in fear. Following that was a rattle as more guns went off, almost sounding like somepony had foolishly lit an entire crate of firecrackers and thrown it into a drum shop.

"That's what happened! The diamond dogs of this area are really well armed! Dogs –invented- gunpowder, but these guys are almost addicted to it! Ugh!" Short sighed, hanging his head before reaching up and keying the radio strapped to his vest, saying "S-Command, this is Victor Seven with traffic, come in."

"_Roger, Victor Seven, this is S-Command. Send traffic, over."_

"S-Command, we've got an incursion in the Industrial District, Zone uh…"

He frowned, thinking to himself before stepping over to the counter, peering over the side and addressing the quivering lump below that was the bartender, huddled away in fright. "Hey, what's this place's address?"

"T-thirteen thirty-seven, Saddle Street. Ah!"

Another volley of gunfire went off outside, sending the bartender deeper under the counter, and Short grunted, speaking into his hand-held again. "Industrial District, Zone Seventeen. Combatants are armed, repeat armed. Interrogative, have the police been dispatched?"

_"Standby, Victor…uh, negative, that's a negative. We're getting reports of six other incursions around the city. Please standby, over."_

"What the hay?" Short asked, his expression shocked. Twilight, not understanding anything that had just happened, stepped closer, trying to keep up their façade of calm, even as more gunshots echoed outside, this time accompanied by equestrian cries of panic and more howls.

"Short…what's going on?"

"I don't know," the colt replied, turning to her with a bewildered look on his face. "It's the weirdest thing. It sounds like we're being hit in different areas at the same time. But that's impossible; diamond dogs don't have the coordination for that."

"Then what-" Twilight snapped, losing her composure as she gestured wildly over her shoulder "The hay is that going on out there?" Swiftly realizing her blunder, she spun around, looking over the room of wide-eyed ponies before coughing awkwardly and adding on "With that weather! I mean, you've got your Weather Officers working so hard out there on the smoke that they can't even manage the snow!" She smiled, hoping to add on a little more credibility.

"You know they don't believe you, right?" asked Spike and Short at the same time in the same, flat tone before glancing at each other, scowling. Twilight sighed in defeat, hanging her head and muttering "Yeah, yeah…"

Short snorted, lost in thought for a second before trying the radio once more. "S-Command, this is Victor Seven, come in."

But, oddly, only static came back to their end, and now Spike and Twilight were staring worriedly at the handset. Short tried again. "S-Command, this is Victor Seven, do you copy?" Again, static.

Grumbling, Short tucked the handset away, muttering something about bad weather and the short-range and ineffectiveness of the radios. The stallion stood there, scratching his chin with his hoof as he tried to think.

This entire visit should have just been a pleasant trip, Twilight thought. She should have arrived, gotten to the Worker's League, talked with the leader about what problems they were having, then spend the night at her hotel and go home the next day. Instead, it looked like she'd be stuck in a dangerous city for much longer than that. Compared to gem-hungry diamond dogs charging around with firearms, planning a surprise party for Pinkie Pie or getting Rainbow Dash to buck up and perform for a show seemed…well, rather trivial.

Finally, Short turned, heading back to the door and pushing it open slightly, peering out at the street beyond. His tone was one of a cautious onlooker who did not want to be discovered, like an adolescent colt sneaking into his father's salt cabinet. "Okay, looks clear for now. The dogs are gone."

He turned back, a frown on his face and obviously something else on his mind, but whatever it was, he didn't voice it, instead looking around the room at the myriad of ponies who were only now venturing out to sit in their seats again. "If the dogs come back they'll search the whole place top to bottom, and everyone here."

"Well, what do we do?" muttered Twilight, trying to keep the whine out of her voice, aware that now may not be the best time to upset her guide slash bodyguard.

She still had a niggling voice in the back of her head, however, telling her to take charge of the situation like she always did. If the local police couldn't handle this, then the Royal Army would take over. And if the Army couldn't handle this…what was she thinking? Twilight wasn't Rainbow Dash, no matter how much she tried to tell herself she could be brave. And she doubted that music from the reeds and warm milk would make these rogue dogs go away.

Fortunately, Short did have another plan. "We follow them. They'll be least likely to backtrack, and with any luck this raid will be over with soon. Hay, we might even run into a few other troopers and get you out of here. Celestia knows the radios don't always work."

"What about the ponies here?" Spike asked, gesturing to the café at large, most of whom had recovered by now and come to form a semicircle around the three, looking beseechingly at those who looked like they may know what they were doing. Short frowned, grunting in frustration before saying aloud "All of you, lock the doors and windows after we leave. Do not, repeat, do NOT open the door for anypony at all without asking for some kind of proof of who they are, whether by seeing them or some other method."

He took a deep breath, glancing around the room at the scared faces, looking for direction and leadership. He wasn't cut out for this stuff, this was what officers did to make themselves useful.

"As of now," he said, his voice more level as he tried to project an air of calm "This building is under lockdown."

* * *

><p>"You didn't have to be so melodramatic."<p>

"It's the only thing civilians listen to! If the authorities don't make drama about something, they're not taken seriously!"

"Well, I guess that explains why Princess Celestia's been been making a fuss for you to do all this research on friendship, Twilight," Spike chortled as he dashed along after the two, his stubby legs barely keeping up with the ponies' cantering pace.

The student shot an annoyed glance back at her assistant before slamming into Short's rear, sending them both tumbling head over hooves to land in a pile on the snowy stone street. At first, she had to concentrate on simply rediscovering which way up was, and then deciding if the purple thing in her field of view was Spike, or simply her hoof. She kicked out to find something solid, and with a sharp retort of "Ow!" she discovered it to be both the former and the latter.

"Nice moves there, miss…" Short groaned from under her, the brim of his helmet shoved down over his eyes. "You should become a danger, I mean, dancer."

"Oh, shut up," Twilight muttered, finally sorting out which limbs were hers and which were Short's, extricating herself and standing wobbly to her feet. They'd only gone a few blocks down the street from the now barricaded café, but her surroundings didn't seem any different. Snowy, brick-lined buildings, stalls along the lane…except there were no ponies, anywhere. Evidence of their habitation was seen everywhere in abandoned saddlebags, magazines and other pieces of property and several dozens of hoof prints, followed by enormous paw tracks in the white slush. One could tell that a struggle had happened here and there, most likely as ponies were thrown to the ground and patted down for gems before the canines moved on. Every now and again, there was a small pile of brass casings and a splash of red blood. Fortunately, no bodies.

"Everyone's hiding already?"

"Yeah," grunted Short as he stood, readjusting his helmet and looking around as well. "We're pretty used to this. Still, there's something wrong about this..." He leaned, down, inspecting one of the aforementioned piles of shells, sniffing the open end and nudging one around. "Automatic rifles. Fired quite recently, probably to scare the crowd."

She tilted her head to the side in confusion, looking at another shell casing nearby, then a few more in a small group.

"How can you tell all that? They look the same to me?"

"Yeah," said Spike, a bitter look on his face as he tossed away a half-chewed one. "And they don't taste as good with gunpowder in them."

Short straightened up, trotting towards an intersection ahead, making Spike and Twilight move as well, or risk being left behind.

"Well, the caliber is easy. The fact that they were all in a pile leant credit to my theory, but it's still just a guess. If someone was firing on a crowd, they'd move the weapon back and forth, throwing spent shells everywhere." It was a rather grim picture, but the fact that there were no dead so far gave Twilight the ease of mind to know that at least ponies weren't dying. There were a few unconscious and wounded that they found as they continued, but each time Short insisted that they keep moving. He didn't share why.

They found their first dead pony around the corner, down an avenue. She lay on the pavement with two red holes in her neck, staining her blue police uniform into a deep, sickening black. Her officer's cap lay nearby, where she had fallen. Next to the downed policemare was what had to be her partner, a colt whose features were hard to distinguish due to a lack of a head, simply a bloody and pulped mess attached to his white neck.

Twilight and Spike both stood there, unable to process the tragedy that lay before them in the form of the two dead ponies, simply doing their job and protecting the city. Short, meanwhile, leaned closer, inspecting both corpses before shaking his head and saying "Must have heard the shots and tried to set up an ambush. The two were overwhelmed before they could even get a shot off."

He moved in, pushing the mare around, and Twilight felt a bitter stab of indignation at the nerve of what he was doing. "Stop that!" she hissed, slamming a hard blow into his flank to interrupt his grim task. "Show some respect, Short! They should be left to rest in peace!"

The trooper snorted, turning back to the body and finally achieving his goal in getting her gun yoke off, saying "She's got no more use for it, and it'll keep us safe…mildly." Twilight could find no words to retort, and a quick glance at Spike revealed the same shocked expression on his features as well as they both looked back the stallion, who was currently shrugging the yoke onto his shoulders, checking the trigger bit.

A gun yoke consisted of a weight-bearing yoke like the one on a plow (such as the one Big Mac wore and never took off) and carried whatever weapon was currently in use on a pivot over the right shoulder, in this case a light caliber repeater, worn by police while on patrol (political intricacies not being one of her fortes, she ran the conundrum of why the force still had access to weapons by Princess Luna, albeit grudgingly. The measure that had taken the Army's guns had set no restrictions on police weapons, allowing them a nice, comfortable loophole) and not known for its lethality. The bullet sleeve trailed down the support strut, over the back of the yoke and into the ammunition box on the left side, which Short was checking now, tugging the belt to ensure it would feed properly.

The trooper turned to the unicorn and dragon, contemplating his words carefully before asking "Do either of you want one?"

Twilight started, a little surprised at the concept of her holding a lethal weapon. The good Samaritan in her automatically said no, but she began reconsidering the protection after looking once more at the two dead ponies in the street. Seeing her indecisiveness, Short tilted his head before asking "Do you know how to use one?"

"Well," the mage replied carefully, finally tearing her eyes away from the crimson blood splashed over the snowy stone street. "I've seen one..." Short's gaze became irritated and unbelieving, and he continued staring at her as she chewed her lip. "Uh…studied them?" Again with the stare, not a muscle moving save for his eyelids, looking at her and waiting for a halfway true story. She found herself lowering her head, trying to avoid the awkwardness of the situation as she continued "Read about them?...okay, fine! I don't know anything about guns, are you happy now!"

Short shook his head, glancing down at Spike, who simply crossed his arms over his scaled chest without a word, glaring back. The answer was obvious; 'does it –look- like I can wear that?' However, before the dragon could utter a single noise of sarcastic contempt, Twilight spotted movement over Short's shoulder, an enormous black blur flashing towards them, and did the first thing she could think of; yell "Look out!" and cast a barrier between the soldier and the enemy. The enormous paw of a Great Dane smashed into her purple magic field, causing it to visibly crack at the impact.

The dog didn't even appear to feel it's paw ram into the shield, reeling back for another blow. Standing at least three times higher than Twilight, he could have probably pulped both ponies without any effort whatsoever. However, before it could move, Short was there once more, firing rapidly with the repeater as he galloped at their foe, the barrel flashing and his teeth clenching on the trigger as he let out several short bursts, causing blood and dust to fly from the black fur. However, for all the results, the dog appeared unharmed, coughing a little as if he'd gotten the wind knocked out of him. Fortunately, Short had it in hand, for he body-slammed the Dane full force, knocking it to the ground before pouring an unending stream of rounds into it.

Twilight couldn't help but stare, enraptured by the violence as more blood flew, along with great chunks of black fur and pink flesh before, finally, the dog stopped moving, and Short stood there panting above the corpse, repeater smoking in the cold air. Handfuls of new shell casings lay steaming in the snow, rapidly cooling from the air around them.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Short back away from the dog, reaching up with a hoof and wiping a splatter of blood out of his face. "Dangit…I can never remember the bucking goggles…" Finally, however, his eyes were clear, and he could see again, letting go of the trigger as he glanced around, finally spying Twilight and Spike, both of whom had backed into a wall and watched the grim fracas with pale faces. Immediately embarrassed and slightly ashamed, the stallion stammered incoherently for a second before he steeled himself, his expression hardening. "He was going to hurt us! It's what you do to people with bad intentions."

He turned, looking up at a nearby street sign, advertising that they were on 42nd Avenue, a boulevard with piles upon piles of abandoned goods, carts and stands, obviously dropped in a hurry. "C'mon," he said, still watching the nearby buildings. "There's an outpost down the road from here. Should be able to find out what's going on from there." Again, he received no reply, and turned to find Twilight down on her belly, staring at the mangled corpse of the Great Dane, eyes wide. Spike was on her back, eyes buried in her mane, obviously to block out the gruesome sight. Wincing, Short knew he'd have to be insensitive, and moved over to Twilight. He considered backhoofing her, but knew that would get a bad reaction. She wasn't a soldier or an officer, she was just a student here at the behest of her regent.

Sighing, the trooper trotted around to Twilight's rear, bending down and headbutting her in the flank, causing the unicorn to either stand or be knocked into a snowbank. Fortunately, Twilight's reflex kept her balanced, and once she was standing he nudged her along again, hard. She made no sound, simply staring down at the street, her eyes wide.

"Never gets easy…" Short muttered as he kept pushing her, mindful to watch the alleyways, buildings and wagons for any sign of an ambush. At least she and the dragon weren't resisting.

Fortunately for all of them, they were alone save for the wind, the carts, and a few dead ponies and dogs scattered in and amongst the debris.

* * *

><p>(Whoo! That was hard work. Some grimdark writers maker it look so easy...and then again, others don't. Anyway, read, enjoy, and I'll see y'all next week!)<p> 


	3. Chapter 3: The Plot Thickens

Ooooookay...so I got a bit overeager and made the next chapter almost within the same day as the last. Eh, so what? I've been having quite a few brain farts lately, I'm glad for this burst of inspiration! Even if it does mean cramped fingers...

Anyway, without further ado, responses!

paxtofettel: Yes. Yes it was. Ballistic damage tends to be pretty unforgiving.

Maria Seinheart: Nice name. Anyway, that's the reason for us grimdark writers, to cast the realistic shadow over what would otherwise be an almost perfect world. Not to say the MLP:FiM doesn't do that in minor doses already, but a bit more couldn't hurt. Right?

Alright, y'all! Enough of my yapping!

* * *

><p><strong>Guardians<strong>

**Chapter 3: The Plot Thickens**

Stalliongrad Army Garrison Radio Room

71st Royal Army Battalion

Near the center of the Industrial Sector of Stalliongrad was an enormous, high-walled compound, built from concrete and steel and hadn't been properly taken care of for years, as evidenced by the chunks missing from the walls and rust on the steel surfaces. There were watchtowers around the site, and while they mounted spotlights, the machine guns that went into these towers had long since been removed by order of royal decree decades ago.

The 71st was an active Royal Army unit, composing of a little more than six-hundred stallions and mares, all of whom wore the customary blue armor and white battledress that troopers in Stalliongrad had on to blend in with the wintery terrain. And, if six-hundred soldiers weren't enough, Stalliongrad played host to ten companies of Army Reserves, regular citizens who had sworn the Oath of Service and gone through the training. They could be called upon in an instant to the garrison.

The battalion was well equipped, possessed its own radio hub, several armories and outposts scattered around the city, and a machine shop filled with advanced steam wagons, armored four-wheeled constructs that carried ponies to their destination quickly, protected by a machine gun up top. Some critics said the vehicle was a waste of resources, funneling bits and time into military equipment when said military wasn't even needed.

Even so, Colonel Eagle Eye refused to believe that his role as a protector of Equestria was any less important than before. Unfortunately, when you're tied by the hooves into inaction thanks to laws and royal decrees, frustration tends to get the best of you, and this is true for anypony.

"I'm not hearing anything," the black stallion announced as he strolled into the garrison's radio room, watching the two dozen or so radio operator ponies dash back and forth between radio control stations, comparing frequencies and bandwidths. "I ordered radios back online twelve minutes ago! Somepony give me a dang status report!" A nearby colt turned his head from his station, looking extremely overworked and sheepish as he replied "Sorry, sir! No luck so far!"

The Colonel stepped up to the rail around the raised platform in the middle of the room, looking down at the work being done to try and restore radios across the city. But it wasn't just the lack of communications that was bothering the black stallion as he leaned down and sniffed a mug of coffee on a table, deciding to leave it.

The real problem was the swiftness and organization of the diamond dogs. They had literally swarmed through Stalliongrad's entrances, overtaking the police patrols in every district in mere minutes. Stalliongrad had a police force of over six-thousand ponies, and the fact that they were being overwhelmed from the Colonel's last report before the radios went out was a very bad sign indeed. The Stalliongrad policeponies were disciplined officers, well-used to riots and violent confrontations. Though lightly armed, they had their own fleet of several hundred steam wagons to patrol the streets with, and if these didn't help them then it meant something was very wrong here.

First of all, diamonds dogs didn't work together. At all. The different packs would eagerly tear each other apart as much as go after pony stockpiles for their gems. The numbers coming in of the police being outnumbered three to one were greatly terrifying, meaning that out in the hills there had been thousands of ruffian canines that could have attacked the city of industry at any time.

Then there were the weapons. Reports had stated automatic firearms, sure, and that was nothing new. But explosives and anti-armor weapons in the hands of diamond dogs were some fiendish creation of a nightmare, which was already giving Colonel Eagle Eye a chill down his spine. That kind of equipment, the kind that dogs could use, was only found in the hands of the Canid Hegemony, a neighboring state on the other side of the ocean from Equestria. He didn't like to brew on the implications that posed.

Suddenly, a mare down in one of the radio stations straightened up, pressing a hoof to her headset and catching the stallion's eye. He reached up, adjusting the blue beret on his head and the winter jacket he wore, simply to rid himself of the tension he was feeling. He knew what was coming.

"Colonel, I've got a signal coming in…it's the city hall on the radio."

"We've got comms again, Lieutenant?"

"Just short range, sir. We're getting calls from units across the city, but I can't connect to Canterlot or Cloudsdale."

"Dang. Must have destroyed the transceiver," Eagle Eye muttered, reluctantly impressed. This attack was fast and precise, not how diamonds dogs operated at all. Still, it was something else to think on as he stepped forward, accepting the headset and pressing it to his ear, realigning the microphone.

"Eagle Eye."

"_Colonel? Thank Celestia! Mayor Caesar wants to speak to you, sir. One moment…"_

Personally, Eagle Eye wasn't sure how Caesar had gotten the position of mayor. He was a business-stallion, owned several factories in and around Stalliongrad and had made several generous donations to the police department, making them one of the best equipped forces in Equestria. But beneath it all, the stallion was a greedy coward who wished to sit up in his ivory tower and bask in its glory so long as things went to plan.

_"Colonel? Colonel Eagle Eye, are you there?"_

The scratchy voice (not scratchy because of the white noise that made it much harder to understand the words being spoken) was coming from the headset, and the Colonel knew it wasn't the mayor's flowing golden tongue speaking those words.

"Chief Iron Star. I was told the mayor was coming."

"_He is. Just wanted to let you know that we've got the whole situation under control."_

"Oh really?"

Chief Iron Star's family all had Cutie Marks for upholding the law. Iron's own brother Silver was currently the sheriff of Appleloosa out on the frontier. But while Silver had (to Eagle) earned his position and did a very good job with it, Iron wasn't all that and everyone knew it. He'd started a deadbeat cop and somehow wormed his way up the ranks to Chief over his career with impeccable speed, despite the numerous partners that had perished alongside him and the counts of police brutality he had stacked on his record. And, worst of all, ever since he became head of the Stalliongrad precinct, Iron Star had been trying to undercut the Colonel and the entire Army operation. Either by diverting funds, refusing to bow to Eagle Eye's authority, or even flat out berating the Colonel like some fresh recruit, there was always something that the Chief found at fault with the Army.

Another pony passed the Colonel a clipboard, and he slid it onto the table in front of him, checking the fresh report on it before saying "Alright, Chief. Explain a few things here, because we've only just got radios back up. My teams estimate that there are at least twenty-thousand enemy combatants in the city."

_"Over exaggerated, probably by hyped up troopers who don't know what to do,"_ said Iron Star, sounding bored already. _"My officers estimate that there are no more than two-thousand. A large pack, to be sure, but not unheard of."_

The Colonel grit his teeth, grinding them as he tried to stay focused. His cutie mark was a silver crown, dangit. He had been born to command, and command meant he had to deal with blowhards like the chief of police.

"Alright. We've also got word that they're using explosives and anti-armor weapons."

"_A few are carrying crude grenades here and there, but so far no evidence of rockets or cannons."_

"My scouts say the dogs are rampaging across the Industrial Sector."

"_That's where they're most concentrated, but we're pushing them back."_

Eagle Eye had to put down the head set at this point, taking a deep breath…before bucking onto his forelegs and kicking a chair halfway across the room, swiftly bringing an air of silence and fear to the group at this outburst of frustration.

Eagle Eye ignored them, putting the headset back on. "I assume you won't need our help, then?"

The chief's chuckle could be heard like a piece of granite on blackboard, scratchy, low and dirty. _"No, we've got it. Let the real enforcers do their jo-oh, Mister Mayor."_

"_Out of my way, Iron! Colonel Eagle Eye, are you there?"_

"Mayor Caesar," the Colonel replied, happy to hear a voice other than the idiot Iron Hoof's. "I assume you're alright?"

"_For now. Luckily I was hosting a banquet here and Star's men locked the building up tight as soon as the dogs invaded. We're sealed up in here and I've got at least a hundred officers around me. For now, I'm safe. But we need to worry about the city, Colonel."_

"I was under the impression that Chief Iron Star had the situation under control."

A pause. White noise and static filtered back over the radio before the Colonel heard _"Chief, can you see if there's a way to get to your precinct? It might do us better for you to be on location."_

"_Of course, Mister Mayor."_

"_And don't forget, you're in command of the city's forces!…alright, he's gone. Listen Colonel. You and I know what's going on out there. I'm hearing the weapons, the screams, the fighting. I can't stand to let my ponies suffer anymore. Therefore, I'm giving you authorization to activate your forces completely."_

Eagle Eye was not a fan of war. He was a career soldier, sure, but he'd fought border skirmishes with Gryphons and these give and take wars with the dogs long enough to know that war sucked. A hay of a lot. Still, despite all this, he'd been secretly awaiting a day when he'd get the chance to show the world that the Royal Army was not only still needed, but could get the job done. So it was with some small amount of repressed glee that he glanced around and replied "Of course, Mister Mayor. I assume you also mean the Reserves, too?"

"_Whatever it takes, Colonel. Armor, Reserves, air support, mages, I don't care what you do as long as you do –something.- Iron Star's living in a fantasy land where his officers are supersoldiers and it's going to get us all –killed.-"_

The Colonel nodded, fighting hard to suppress a grin from coming to his muzzle. "Yes, Mister Mayor. I warn you, we're light on air, magic and armored support, but I can give you grunts."

"_Give me everything, Colonel. You're the one calling the shots. No one can radio outside the city and the phone lines are all cut. I expect a status report soon."_

"Yes, sir," said Eagle Eye, who ended the call and tossed the headset aside, now sporting a very small smile…that disappeared as he turned, clapped his hooves on the metal floor for silence and cleared his throat before announcing "We have just been given authorization from the mayor himself to initiate Code Orange. I want every company, every platoon, every –squad- called to the nearest garrison or armory and equipped, accounted for and ready to go! Get it done, people!"

Code Orange meant a hostile presence in the city, one that could potentially destroy it or kill most of the inhabitants. Fortunately, all the radio operators were well disciplined, or they might have not automatically reached for their sets and begun blaring out orders across the city, their faces masks of shock as everypony spread the word to every soldier listening; prepare for war.

* * *

><p>Twilight came back to her senses slowly. Caught up in her mind, the city passed around her like a hazy dreamland, and Short's insisting nudges into her hindquarters were mild annoyances rather than offending or intrusive. However, it wasn't until the trooper had herded her inside a small, low down structure and into its warm confines that she finally became aware of her surroundings.<p>

The room was metal all around, from the floor to the walls to the ceilings, and was stacked with all kinds of devices, radios from the look of it. Nearby, a unicorn mare in winter battledress sat at her station, headset on and scribbling something with a levitated pencil onto a notepad. She reached the end of her page and flipped it, moving on to the next one.

A doorway was on the other side of the room, halfway open to expose the interior of another chamber, through which Twilight could see shelves of some kind, a storeroom containing green, unlabelled boxes. She glanced around, realizing she was seated in a chair herself and that Spike was next to her, asleep in a little ball. As she watched, the little dragon turned over fitfully, muttering to himself as his face scrunched up. He must have been having a nightmare, and who wouldn't after witnessing such gruesome demises as the dead in the street…

Twilight glanced at the radiomare once more, who continued writing, oblivious of her guests as she did her work. Twilight couldn't hear anything from the headset clamped over the soldier's ears, but every now and then the mare would stop, perk up, press her hoof to one earpiece and then continue writing.

It didn't seem like they were being held hostage, so Twilight slipped off the chair and crept towards the door. While they may not be held against their will, she was in no way eager to alert the other room's occupants, and she kept her eye on the radiomare as she nudged the door open completely, finding herself in the storeroom she'd seen. Fortunately there was nopony there, simply stacks of crates and shelves full of supplies, reaching back further than she had originally supposed, for on the other wall were two billboards, each cluttered with papers pinned to them. She peered at the slips and found them covered with reminders, lost and found notices, meetings, flyers, all the different things needed to keep ponies going through informed of things around them. To tell the truth, it wasn't much different than the Notice Board in Ponyville, save for the times for training drills, disciplinary notices, reminders to keep your weapon maintained. The list went on.

From the room behind her, Twilight suddenly heard the hiss of an opening door sliding along the ground, the clank of the latch and the metallic clop of horseshoes on steel. Judging by the sound, there were many ponies stepping inside from wherever there was out there, and the low murmur of voices abruptly halted.

"Aw, shoot. Sunbeam…Sunbeam!"

"Corporal Sunbeam!" the harsh bark rang out, causing Twilight to almost launch towards the ceiling in shock. "Get that danged thing off your ears and tell us where the pony who you were –supposed- to be watching has gone!"

"Y-yes, Sergeant Gunn! Well…I appear to have lost her, sir."

"LOST her, Corporal?"

"Yes, sir! Lost her!"

Twilight grit her teeth, realizing the unicorn was about to take the fall for her disappearance. She wasn't sure why the soldier ponies didn't simply look into the storeroom, but a look back at the door from her angle suddenly confirmed why. From that room, they wouldn't see her thanks to the steel door blocking the view, but a glance would say she wasn't in there.

Deciding not to let someone else take the brunt of the sergeant's rage for her vanishing trick, Twilight slowly peered out from behind the door, back into the radio room to find that five others had come in, all sporting the same dress as Short had. Winter jackets, blue armor and helmets, goggles and this time white facemasks, presumably to keep out what the goggles missed. The largest one whore the triple chevron symbol of a sergeant on his sleeves, and had no helmet or goggles, but a simple cap pulled down between his ears. He was practically in the radiomare's face, but had caught the slight motion of Twilight coming in out of the corner of his eye, and snapped around to face her.

Twilight knew instantly that she was looking upon a true man of action, if an aggressive one. The sergeant was almost the size of Big Macintosh, a large burly horse with a deep blue coat and black mane, almost making his armor disappear against him. Muscles bulged under his battledress, telling of long hours spent in physical exercise, something that could make any stallion back down in fright (save for the crazy, the dumb or the determined). The sergeant's eyes were full of anger, but the stallion at least managed to pull himself together enough to not yell at the mage, gritting his teeth in obvious frustration.

Once again, as seemed to be constant around this city, Short Stop stepped in again to save her (she was actually starting to become a little suspicious of his 'timely' saves) from the wrath of his commander. She didn't recognize him at first, but when he pulled down the facemask and removed the goggles Short's concerned face appeared under his helmet once more.

"Twilight, you're…awake." Not that she'd really gone to sleep, she suspected. "Sarge, take it easy on her. She's had a bit of a rough day." Fortunately, the sergeant had definitely calmed down, and grunted noncommittally before turning to the radiomare (Sunbeam, apparently) and saying "Corporal! Get back to monitoring the radio! I want the Colonel's orders on my lap before he's even finished speaking!"

Sunbeam snapped a quick salute before doing just that, standing her chair back up and reapply her headset, pencil writing rapidly. Twilight wondered if the sergeant might be just a bit harsh on the mare, but she fortunately didn't seem to be any worse off than before with imminent physical harm out of the way. She supposed this was just how it was done in the Army.

Short gestured to the stern stallion, stating "This is Sergeant Lock Gunn. He's my squad leader and has also been assigned to your protection. Sarge, this is Twilight Sparkle, student of Princess Celestia. We're supposed to watch her flank and keep her and the little scaly thing outta trouble." Finally, as if the mention of him was like a trigger, Spike awoke, having somehow slept through the commotion earlier, glancing around with bleary eyes.

"Woah," he muttered, attracting the rest of the squad's bewildered attention. "Weird dream…" The baby dragon shook his head, attempting to dispel whatever illusion was in front of him before, realizing that he truly was awake, he bolted upright, eyes wide. "Oh, man! Twilight, we gotta get out of this city!"

Short frowned at the mage's assistant before turning back to find Twilight's wary eyes on him. He raised a brow, his face one of confusion as he said "What? You're staring at me like I'm from Zebrabwe or something." True, Twilight was keeping away from the colt, making sure that a minimum distance of a few feet was between them at all times. After the events of today (if it was indeed still the same day) she wondered what else the innocent if mischievous face hid from her. After all, Short had killed someone (even if it had been attacking them) right in front of her and never given it a second thought, even with blood on his face. Blood! Somepony else's blood! What if he was secretly a serial killer or enjoyed the horrific sensation of taking another's life? Or what if he was-

Fortunately, Twilight was saved both the awkwardness of speaking to Short and the rambling of her own mind by Sunbeam, who suddenly pivoted in her chair, yelling out "Sarge! Got a message for you from the Colonel! I'll pipe it through to you."

Gunn kept his eyes rooted on Twilight as he reached up, keying his handset and saying "Victor One here. Go ahead."

"_Victor One, this is S-Command, Colonel Eye speaking. Is Miss Sparkle there with you?"_

"Yessir. She just started moving around."

"_So she's doing better. Good. Load her up in a wagon and get her up here. I expect her flank to be intact."_

"Yessir. I'll get it done."

"_Good. S-Com out."_

* * *

><p>Steam wagons operated off of the same principal as locomotives; the engine burned coal or water to build pressure and move pistons, generating power to a set of wheels. Whereas locomotives had changed very little in the last century, however, steam wagons were the new technology of the age, using more compact parts to move half as much weight the same basic speed as a train (though some engineer ponies liked to pull their own trains to show off) on four wheels. The driver sat up front while the engine was placed in the back, directly over the rear axle and cutting down on extra parts. This meant, however, that two hatches needed to be installed in the sides in order to accommodate the passengers in the middle. A steam wagon could hold eight fully-equipped ponies, and Victor squad had grabbed all their gear, consisting of gun yokes mounting automatic rifles as well as saddlebags holding enough supplies to make even Applejack think twice about picking one up.<p>

Their driver was a colt named Black Blitz, a master behind the wheel and obvious speed freak. Every time one of the wagons four wheels ran through a dip or into a bump in the road, a cheer could be heard from up front before his co-driver Penny shushed him. Penny was a mare of few words, someone who preferred to spend time used talking to carry out her intent. Unfortunately, paired with the braggart Blitz (who reminded Twilight somewhat of Rainbow Dash, making her feel homesick already) the two constantly argued up front, which could be heard over the sound of the engine.

Short Stop was strapped in next to Twilight, checking over his rifle for what seemed the hundredth time. She didn't understand just why he needed to see the same thing over and over, checking to see if anything had changed when there wasn't the most remote possibility that it had. She still hadn't spoken to him since they left the outpost, and she knew he was becoming both annoyed and concerned for her well-being. While that was indeed kind of him, the fact still remained that she didn't know if she could trust the stallion. Another part of her brain reasoned that she was overreacting quite a bit. Yes, he had killed a living creature without the slightest sign of remorse or regret, but he'd done it to protect her and Spike. As for keeping secrets, it wasn't as if he'd told her that much about himself already. No, she was simply in shock from the events she'd witnessed earlier, that's all.

She turned to Spike, on her other side, who was too small for the restraints and instead found himself parked in an ammunition pouch over the seat's headrest, sulking and not saying a word. It was impossible to tell if he was simply grouchy or still genuinely affected, but she knew that his wish to leave the city was still strong, as was hers.

Abruptly, Sergeant Gunn turned to the group from upfront, calling out "Listen up, ponies! We just got a report from Buckboard One up ahead. There's some heavy fighting a few streets over, so we're detouring to find a safer route!" Their steam wagon was part of a three-machine convoy, traveling down the streets of Stalliongrad in their attempt to ferry both her and Spike to the Royal Army garrison in the center of the district, where she'd be safe, according to the soldiers. From what little she'd heard, the police were being slaughtered and the Army deployed barely a half-hour ago to assist in evacuating all the residents to a safer area. Unfortunately, this meant that the Army could only cover a small part of the city, leaving the police to do the majority of the fighting.

For now, though, the Army was concentrating on keeping the dogs occupied while the resident ponies got to a place of safety, namely the garrison, city hall, any of the numerous hospitals (there were so many refugees that even the National Medical Institute and Experimental Theater were made into evacuation shelters). The dogs were free to rampage around the other parts of the city without fear from anything but a few bothersome strikes from whatever Pegasi in the Army Sky Corps could be spared to try and keep them occupied.

So far, it wasn't working so well.

Twilight felt the wagon lurch as it hit a hard corner, peeling around what was most likely a turn into an intersection, while Blitz's excited cheers could be heard as he turned the multi-ton machine, nearly lifting into onto two wheels. "Danged foal!" Gunn snarled, pounding on the separating hatch with his hoof. "Slow down, you idiot! You're going to crash!"

Unfortunately, Blitz's only reply was "Woah! What the hay!" followed by an explosion outside that, to Twilight, seemed to be of epic proportions.

Abruptly, the wagon slammed into reverse, it's wheels skidding on the icy stones to gain purchase before it almost literally flew back, and with a bone-shaking impact slammed into the third wagon behind it, pushing both machines back a ways before something else hit them, and with a blow that felt like a kick to the flank, tipped the wagon over onto its side.

Short came to a minute or so later to find his world had been inverted. Still trapped inside the metal casket of the steam wagon, he realized he was hanging by his safety harness, meaning the hatch before him was blocked.

"Settle down, troopers!" yelled Gunn as he struggled his way up to the other side. "Sound off!"

"Blitz and Penny are dead!" yelled Azure from the front hatch, glancing back over her shoulder. The turquoise draft horse had two short-barreled recoilless rifles on her gun yoke and back rig, linked by belt to the enormous pack she had strapped to her back. The simple fact she could move around as nimbly as she did for her size and the strain on her was unbelievable, especially here in the steam wagon, being the largest of the squad.

"Hatch is jammed!" yelled Maple as he slammed into the 'ceiling' repeatedly, trying to force it open without breaking either his bones or his gun.

"Precious cargo is okay!" Short said, checking on Twilight and Spike. Aside from a few bruises and being dazed, they were fine. Above him, Gunn finally managed to make his way up to be well balanced, and a curse emanated from the sergeant.

"Dangit! Joker and Lorraine are KIA! We're pulling this job half-staffed!"

"That's okay, Sarge!" Maple said, still struggling against the hatch, a red stain appearing in his torn shoulder beneath his brown coat. "Victor Squad is up for anything!"

"Oh, move aside you buckin' idiot!" snarled Azure, pushing the smaller colt aside and hitting the hatch once with a carefully aimed hoof. The lock finally snapped, and the hatch flew open...off its hinges. Still, it did let in the fresh, snowy air, allowing the ponies to breath without difficulty and finally escape the confines of their wrecked transport.

However, it also let the sounds of battle in. The rattle of automatic weapons, the deep _thunkthunkthunk_ drumroll of high-caliber machine guns and the howl of bloodthirsty diamond dogs.

Azure was the first one out, falling to the snow and seeking shelter immediately behind the wreck of their steam wagon, wincing as bullets ricocheted off the metal and stone around her. "There's a lot of them, Sarge! Up in the buildings and down on the street!" Gunn was down next, pulling at his rifle's ammo belt before retorting "I can see that, Private! Maple! Get your flank down here! Short, defend those VIPs at all cost!"

"On it, Sarge!" Short replied over the handset, still inside the wagon as he leaned down, trying to look into Twilight's eyes. "Hold still…are you okay? Do you have a concussion?" He peered down as the unicorn mare coughed, trying to turn in her safety harness. "Hold still, I just need to-" Abruptly, his helmeted head was struck by a firm blow, hardly hurting him through the cloth-covered steel but definitely hard enough to make a loud _CLANG!_ resonate through the wagon. "I'll take that as a 'yes, I'm fine'," he muttered, shaking his skull to make the fluttering dragons around his eyes go away.

"Oh! Short, are you okay?" Twilight said, reaching out to try and see if the colt was hurt despite the harness in her way. "I didn't mean to do that, I just-can you get me out of this thing?"

"At least you're talking again," Short muttered, leaning up and pulling the release switch, letting the unicorn fall unceremoniously to the metal below. Fortunately, she managed to clumsily land on her feet, shaking her head again. "You okay?" Short asked again, moving to tug Spike out of the ammo pouch.

"Yeah, I think so…" Twilight muttered, looking around and wincing as an explosion went off outside. "What's going on?"

"We ran into an ambush. I think the first wagon's gone!" Short clambered up to the open hatch, peering outside before ducking his head down, bullets flying past and sparking off the metal. "The dogs have a bazooka up ahead, a few stories up. Buckboard One is giving them all kinds of trouble, but…" He glanced up again, and when he didn't get shot at he rose a little higher. "Yeah, the dogs are still dug in. Looks like a roadblock across the street. We're not going anywhere until we get rid of them all."

Ahead, Azure fired another two shells, adjusted her aim through the sights and fired again. She wasn't meant to participate in long-term engagements, she only had a hundred rounds between her guns, meaning she could fire another forty-two…forty-one times. Beside her, at the rough barricade the squad had formed out of an abandoned cart and a stack of crates, Maple and Gunn poured on the fire with their rifles, letting out burst after burst at the dogs.

"This is no good!" Maple yelled as he squeezed the bit-trigger again, his eye glued to the sight on the side of the barrel. "They're too far away, I'm not hitting anything!"

"Speak for yourself!" replied Gunn as he ducked back into cover. "I've taken down at least six!"

Short slid up next to them, pausing before firing over the crates wildly, ducking back down once more as a bullet splintered off his chunk of cover.

"Private Stop, what is the status of the VIPs?"

"They're okay, sir! A little banged up, but they're safe in the wagon!"

Abruptly, Buckboard Three pushed around the wreckage of number Two, rolling forward on its four wheels while the pony up top fired the heavier machine gun from his protected shell. Behind the wagon, the eight trooper ponies from inside were advancing, keeping close to the machine to use as cover.

"Good!" yelled Gunn, firing again before addressing the squad. "We're moving to the wagon! Use it as cover and advance on the enemy position! These dogs want a piece of us? Let's show them that the Army's still got some fight left!"

"HOO-AH!" the three soldiers yelled, slamming their hooves together before making the dash for the protection of the wagon.

* * *

><p>Hope you enjoyed this action-y piece that I delivered WAAAAAAAAY early, and I promise the next one will be in before the week is up! Til then, this is Warhorse, signing off!<p> 


	4. Chapter 4: Brewing Storm

(And so we meet again, for our weekly dose of soldier-pony! And now, for responses!

**Maria:** yes, they do seem to get around. I studied their episode for quite some time and reasoned them out to be just so.

**Greki:** I always aim for descriptive excellence, and I'm pleased to see that I have succeeded!

And now, for all you wonderful people on Equestria Daily who commented on my work:

Thank you. If I was to address each and everypony in here, we'd have more responses than we would story. Let me simply say, in summary as most responses would go down this same road, that I am quite aware of the faults you have seen, and have resolutions for everything. I am determined to make this story make sense, darn it!

On with the insanity!)

* * *

><p><strong>Guardians<strong>

**Chapter 4: Brewing Storm**

High Above the Industrial Sector

Lieutenant Leroy Wingkins AKA "Cobra Six"

71st Royal Army Battalion ASC

Current Mission: Engage enemy forces

"_Eyes sharp, Six. I'm seeing a knot of activity below us. Ready on your go."_

Compared to most Pegasi, Leroy was modestly average. The only reason he'd signed up for the young flier competition was because of the tricks he'd learned at the Cloudsdale Military Academy. He hadn't won, of course, but he'd felt like he'd brought his all, and that was all that mattered. It had gotten him noticed, at least, and he'd earned himself a track onto the Bomber Program, intended to instruct Pegasus ponies in how to carry large amounts of ordnance and avoid enemy fliers and ground fire. He wasn't the strongest, the smartest or the bravest. But he was, in his humble opinion, the luckiest, and that helped out in spades.

Through his flight goggles, he saw the struggle in the Industrial Sector unfolding as if a storybook before his eyes. The attack had only been going on for a little more than an hour and a half, but already the dogs had made great gains. Already more than halfway through the factories and refineries, the dogs suddenly found themselves up against firmer resistance than police with repeater yokes. The Army had drawn a line across the Sector, desperate to protect it and City Center, where the city hall, police precinct and several other political standings were contained. Colonel Eagle Eye had given the order to begin bringing in the Reserves to bolster their forces, and that unfortunately meant Wingkins. He had signed up with the Army because he knew the kingdom paid civil servants well, and he would be getting paid to do what he loved; flying. Never had he expected he'd be called to combat, however. War with the Hippogryph Republic and Canid Hegemony just seemed like such a remote impossibility, and the police and active Army had always been there to take care of any other problems before.

Now, here he was, flying with a pair of old hundred-pound napalm bombs attached to his load-bearing harness over the city and looking for a good target. He could probably just let go now and dash back to the airfield and still hit the dogs below, all without risking himself, but that wasn't how you were trained in the Army, even the Reserves. Every nerve cluster in his pony brain urged him to acquire a target first.

His wing mate, Sam Swift, came into formation on his wing, waiting for Leroy's signal to begin their bombing run. Like Wingkins, Swift carried bombs under his wings, and the two kept in contact over the radio, making sure to coordinate their attack run. Having met at the Academy, Swift and Wingkins were fast friends, and had gotten assigned to the same group thanks to their near identical aptitude scores. They'd been flying for the Reserves together ever since.

With a deep breath from the thin air, Wingkins yelled out "LET'S DO THIS!" drew his wings in and peeled for a tight dive, swooping down to a few hundred feet. Leroy leveled out, finding himself only a few dozen meters above the streets, zipping over the heads of an entire column of diamond dogs, all dressed and armed in vastly differing variations. Quickly, he reached out, clamping his teeth around the bit-trigger and squeezing, letting first one bomb then the second go, gaining altitude from the loss of such enormous amounts of weight. Behind him, the twin explosions rocked the streets, one bomb even slamming into the ground floor of a shop, sending a dozen looter dogs flying in bits and pieces. A sharp ascension quickly pulled Leroy out of danger from return fire, feeling bullets snap and crack past him as he spun, flipped and barrel-rolled his way back up to safety.

"ALRIGHT!" he cheered, punching the air with a hoof as he soared along, glancing back to inspect his hoofiwork. Four splotches of fired burned down the street, with smaller, running torches dashing away from the flames. Survivors of the incendiary bombs, set aflame by the explosions.

It was then that Leroy realized his wing mate was gone from the skies. He was neither behind Wingkins nor on his wing. The brown Pegasus slowed his speed, looking around frantically for any sign of the green stallion.

"Swift? Swift? Sam!" He reached for his handset, keying it off the frequency his squad used for themselves and sending out a general call. "Cobra Five, come in! Cobra Five, respond! Sam! SAM!"

But there was no response on the radio. Nothing but white noise. And below Wingkins, the street he and Swift had just dropped four hundred pounds of ordnance onto burned with a fire as if cast by a demonic presence.

* * *

><p>Twilight was not one to put herself in danger willingly (unless it meant helping her friends, of course) and becoming 'bullet bait' as Sergeant Gunn had stated seemed like the very epitome of self-endangerment. She knew enough about ballistics to realize that bullets bounced and they were never completely predictable. Especially when said bullets were being fired on full-automatic haphazardly, like both the ponies and dogs were doing.<p>

Not being adept in the art of war, Twilight could only pause and wonder at what plan the trooper ponies were forming, abandoning their firing positions to hide behind the last working wagon. The cover was certainly desirable, but couldn't whatever had knocked out the last two wagons simply destroy this one?

Just as the thought entered the unicorn's mind, a plume of rocket exhaust suddenly streamed out into the air as the dogs fired their bazooka once again, the warhead detonating only a few meters off from the wagon she and Spike were hiding in, shoving it right into the building next to it, tipping over and slamming onto its back with an almighty _–CRASH-_, depositing the last two living occupants of the armored machine out into the street and the line of fire.

Her ears were ringing, and as she lifted her head she felt an immense pressure, like someone had tied a block of lead to her ear. Her vision was fuzzy, and the whole world seemed to simply swim by in slow, watery motion. Up ahead, the ponies behind the wagon finally split up their team, surging around it with every detail revealed to Twilight's eyes. Snow, dirt and sparks flew up from metal shod hooves, accompanied by bullets striking the stones. One pony took a round in the chest and fell, his breath coming in gasps as the round sank into his combat armor, knocking the air out of his lungs. Over to the left, another soldier wasn't quite so lucky, and a round tore through his head, causing his body to spin in an impressive if gruesome pirouette, more bullets tearing away chunks of flesh in great red ribbons…

* * *

><p>Two ponies from Baker squad went down as the remnants of the platoon dashed for cover, finding behind pieces of debris, smaller barricades or, like the survivors from Buckboard two, in explosive craters, great black scars carved into the streets to expose the glistening, dark earth below, like actual wounds in the city's skin. "Incoming!" A grenade detonated nearby, showering the platoon in debris as they took up positions, sergeants ordering suppressive fire through the clamor and the commotion.<p>

"Keep up that fire!"

"What are you, an idiot? Keep your danged sights on the enemy!"

"Look out, on the left!"

"Sniper, up high!"

"I can't see 'em, can't see 'em!"

"Shells out!"

Short almost lost all distinction of what he was hearing as the sounds of battle raged on, but he ignored the confusion, rising from behind the wrecked cart he'd taken shelter behind to pour out a long burst, watching with satisfaction as a bulldog reeled around, struggled back to its feet and toppled under his hail of fire. The buckers took some effort to put down, but all it took was more bullets in the end.

Overhead, the bazooka roared again, striking Buckboard Two dead on, detonating against its glacis plate and, fortunately, causing no serious damage. Thanks to that, the machine gun up top continued rattling, pounding the structure ahead with high-caliber bullets as the pony swung it back and forth, raking the walls with bullet holes.

"Victor squad! Grenades, up and over!" yelled Sergeant Gunn, and all four instantly reached down, grasping the oversized handles of the grenades strapped to their vests, their teeth digging into the rubber. Short reached up with his hoof, holding the explosives as he twisted his neck, unlatching the handle.

"TOSS 'EM!" Gunn ordered, and the four soldier ponies did exactly that, four grenades flying up and over the redoubt with a single jerk of the head, an artform mastered in training drills. Three of them made it up and over the lip of the window sill, detonating seconds later inside the room, while the last fell to the ground, exploding harmlessly.

"CHARGE!" yelled the squad commander of Baker squad, a stout mare who galloped over the cover, causing the rest of her soldiers to follow, all of them firing as they advanced on the dog's ground-level fortifications.

"Keep the pressure on!" yelled Gunn, his rifle hammering away. Short did the same, already feeling the yoke causing a bruise on his shoulder, despite it's recoil absorbing frame. Already, he'd fired more rounds in the last two hours than he'd ever fired in any of his training drills, and a quick glance at the mud below would reveal hundreds of brass shell casings from over thirty rifles, glistening in the midday light.

Figures. Princess Celestia can control the danged sun, but when her kingdom comes under attack she's nowhere to be found. Some omnipotent goddess…

"Up and over, Victor! We're advancing!" Gunn said, leaping to the next piece of cover, his shoes clattering against the street. Azure was next, her big guns booming as she paused for only a brief instant to acquire her target. Maple after her, firing wildly like the hyper-active rookie he was (being even greener than Short, Maple was still not imbued with the sense of discipline that years of training gave you).

Before Short could move forward, however, something made him look back, back down the street towards the wrecked wagon that he had hoped would protect Twilight and Spike. It didn't look to be doing a very good job, since the unicorn and dragon were both lying in the street, vulnerable and unprotected in their current position. His orders were to protect Twilight 'at all cost' but it still went against the grain for him to be throwing his squad to the dogs. Literally, in this case.

He only hesitated a second before galloping at breakneck speed back towards her.

* * *

><p>Bombs going off. Bullets flying everywhere. Rockets exploding. Ponies dying…<p>

Stop, she told herself, tearing her eyes away from the gun battle to stare at the ground, taking deep, calming breaths. What would Rainbow Dash do? She'd square herself away, set her jaw and go find a gun to get into that fight-

No! Don't focus on what Dash would or wouldn't do! Focus on what Twilight Sparkle would do!

Calm down, calm down…magic is the key. Magic is your special talent, it's what gets you through everything! Think! Magic is the key to everything, it's the sixth of the Elements of Harmony, and it's what binds all the rest together…

"Come to think of it, that never actually sounded right when I said it," she muttered, rubbing at her chin. "Magic being the sixth Element? Magic doesn't tie them all together. Perhaps I should have gone with my other theory about-"

"Twilight, is now –really- the time?" Spike yelled, currently attempting to push the unicorn to safety. "We shouldn't be discussing theories and intellectual problems when there's a WAR going on!"

"War?" Twilight frowned, looking down at the baby dragon with an expression akin to a combination of both confusion and skepticism, before another bazooka round smashed into a building further down the street, causing her head to swivel, first to look at the detonation, then towards its source, reminded once more. "That's right!"

"Man! Do you get wrapped up in things!" Spike declared huffily, having given up on moving Twilight from her position. Fortunately, Short (with another one of his perfectly timed saves) slid in and yelled "Get your dang head down!" Out of reflex, Twilight did so, just as another bullet snapped past her ear.

"You guys are certainly busy today!"

"Good to at least have you talking! You were a total braincase earlier-"

"You KILLED something right in front of me! I saw his blood on your muzzle, for Princess' sakes!"

Spike glanced away from the furious mare and the bewildered colt, his head snapping around at a new menace; from an alleyway nearby, another group of dogs emerged, eager to get into the fighting that already had delayed the platoon so far. "Uh oh! Trouble incoming!"

"I got this!" Short yelled, his reflexes kicking in as he automatically stepped in front of Twilight, raising his rifle and downing the first opponent with a short burst. To his astonishment, however, a purple barrier was erected between him and the enemies, into which the return fire smacked and bounced off harmlessly. A brick from the wall of a nearby factory suddenly slid out of its building before speeding into the forehead of another dog with an audible _–SMACK!-,_ throwing the canine into the wall behind him. Short glanced to his right to find Twilight beside him, her horn ablaze and her face a mask of grim determination.

"Thought you didn't know any battle magic?" he said, turning back and firing again as the barrier shifted, letting him get a clear field of fire.

"I never said 'no' did I? But you're right. I don't know any spells that are lethal in and of themselves, but I know a lot of telekinesis!"

Short turned, bewildered. "Telewhat?"

Behind him, a dog leapt forward, rifle raised like a club as he rushed towards the distracted soldier, howling to the high heavens before a cart flew up from the street and over Short's head, sending the dog flying away.

"That! I can throw things!" she snapped, casting a wagon wheel to boomerang around and hit the same target twice in different locations, sending the dog to the pavement. "I'm not going to kill. You lot seem to have that under control."

"You're pretty hostile right now, y'know that?" Short quipped, sidestepping around Spike as the little dragon took shelter behind the steam wagon, equal parts rearing to dive in and ready to stay put.

"I'm not a package or some frail filly!" Twilight snarled, her levitating crowbar slamming into the back of another dog's head. "I know how to take care of myself! And what is it with you, shanghai-ing a mare out to the middle of nowhere without speaking to her about it!"

"Time was of the essence! I had my orders!" Short bit back, getting annoyed as he tugged at the slide for his rifle, attempting to clear a jam as another barrier blocked a barrage of rounds from the opposite side now, the other firefight. "And we were in the middle of a hotzone!" Finally, his hoof shoved the action back, ejecting a malformed casing in time for him to spray down a charging Labrador. "We still are!"

"Spike! Take a message!"

"What, now?"

"YES!"

"With what?"

"I don't know, find something to write on!" Twilight shrieked as a clawed swipe came too close, and she retaliated with a direct kick before using a magic bolt to knock her opponent off his feet.

"Okay!" yelled Spike as he reemerged from the ruined steam wagon, clutching a dispatch pad and a battered old pen. "I'm ready!"

"'Dear Princess Celestia, Stalliongrad is under attack, send help! Your Student, Twilight Sparkle!'" the bookworm quickly dictated, ramming another dog in the gut. Fortunately, her horn didn't penetrate his stomach, but the blastwave that came off the tip sent the mutt flying backwards, crashing through a factory wall. Spike, who had almost finished by this point, paused as he chewed the end of the pen. "Y'know, Twilight, I think this is the shortest note you've ever written."

"Just send it," she said exasperatedly, panting as she glanced around. No more opponents rose to face them, and the gunfire over at the street barricade halted only a second later as a last, pained howl rang out.

"Well," muttered Short, lowering his rifle as he inspected Twilight's handiwork for himself, the evidence being several unconscious dogs on the ground with cuts, bruises and other such injuries all over their persons. "Not bad, for your first engagement."

Twilight, a bit taken aback, glanced over at the trooper.

"Thanks…it's not yours? But there's been no war-"

"No, but I've fought these guys quite a few times," Short said, a small smile coming to his face. Twilight almost recoiled in disgust at the thought that this stallion might enjoy the abhorrence of bloodshed, but managed to control herself just in time. "But I can honestly say I've never had to guard VIPs before." At this, the colt looked over at the unicorn, and even though his eyes were concealed behind his goggles, she allowed herself to imagine he was watching her with an almost admiring glance. "And I ain't never seen anythin' like that."

She could have just been imagining things, but Short's voice seemed to lose its controlled, clipped and even tone for just a second, a drawl hanging onto his words for the briefest of moments, so short she might have simply wished it to be there instead. To cover up for her confusion, she cleared her throat, turning and addressing her assistant.

"Spike. Did you send the message?"

A burst of green dragonfire was her answer, and Spike turned back, licking his lips as he replied "Done and done. Best part about today, at least sending scrolls is normal."

The crunching of snow under iron-shod hooves came to everypony's ears, and they all turned to find Sergeant Gunn approaching, his own rifle hanging from its yoke, the bit trigger loose. The pony himself stopped a few meters away, looking the three over one at a time, not saying anything. Surprisingly, Short didn't snap to attention at his superior's appearance, instead only turning to keep the sergeant in his peripheral.

"Alrighty, then," said Gunn, startling the unicorn out of her observations once again. "You look okay, and you aren't huddling in the corner like some lost foal. Can I assume you're good to travel, Miss Sparkle?"

Twilight was surprised as the Sergeant's polite tone and deference, before remembering that, as the person they were guarding and Princess Celestia's representative here, she could possibly be viewed upon as the commander here. A notion she needed to dispel quickly, she realized.

"I'm fine, Sergeant. Thank you. It's good that you've got the situation under control, but please, I'm nopony important. Just Twilight. Is there still transport working?"

"Yes, ma'am," the large pony replied, seeming to ignore her attempts to slide into the background, turning to look over at the steamwagon known as Buckboard Two. It was then that Twilight got a good look at the sergeant's Cutie Mark, obscured up until this point. A silver shield with a horseshoe emblazoned upon it lay over two crossed swords, a symbol of both defense and martial prowess, something Twilight hadn't seen on anypony anywhere. She wondered just how long Gunn had been a blank flank before he discovered his special talent as a soldier.

"We've just gotten word of increased security," Gunn continued, turning back with a frown on his face. "A squad from Section Five is down the street, at Steed Square. Apparently, the dogs are making a concentrated push towards City Center and the garrison, and the Square leads to both of them."

Behind her, Short groaned, clapping a hoof to his helmet. "Section Five? Just our luck…"

"Section Five?" Twilight questioned, a frown on her brows once more. "I…I don't quite follow."

"Section Five," Gunn informed her "Is the battalion's battle mage detachment. Nothing but unicorns, miss, and they're waiting for you."

* * *

><p>And once more, I shall see you all next Friday! For the time being, enjoy the fic and get ready for more war-torn aspirations and fantasies!<p> 


	5. Chapter 5: To Pieces

Equestria Daily has something known as the Nightly Roundup. I like to think that what I do up here is something similar, because I do have good news; my original plan for this story was to write eight chapters, but I have decided to extend it to at least ten, maybe twelve, giving you all more soldier-pony!

And now, responses!

**Maria Seinheart:** funny thing about battles; they always go downhill for at least one side. But I wanted to show the escalation of events because the local forces are so badly outnumbered. More than once in history, one side has beaten the others superiors weapons and tactics with just sheer numbers.

**paxtofettel:** I see you have watched the video as well! To be honest, I wanted to make Wingkins a more cocky character, but felt that he would seem too full of himself for the brief cameo he had. Good to see people caught on to what I was trying to do, at least!

**DoctorWhooves:** whenever magic is mentioned, battlemages must appear in some shape or form! It is a law! Isn't it?...

**Goodnamesaretaken:** Great name! Anyway, I felt that spinning an enormous epic might detract from some of my readers, most of whom are looking for something different. If I was to make enormous, spiraling stories for each chapter, we'd never finished and I'd never get them done every week!

And as for my viewers on Equestria Daily, I'm glad to see that some people are picking out the faults as well as the good things. It makes it easier for me to write a story you like. However, I'm not going to go so far as to not include characters acting the way they should. Keep that in mind, please.

* * *

><p><strong>Guardians<strong>

**Chapter 5: To Pieces**

Canterlot

Royal Palace of the Sun and the Moon (recently rechristened)

Royal Library

"Luna?"

Her eyes danced over the rows and rows of tomes before her, lined up on their shelves as far as the eye could see. The Royal palace's library was the largest of its kind in Equestria (and almost the world, but Hippogryph had an entire structure devoted to the Matriarch's studies that easily trumped this one room) and the high windows, while normally with their curtains open, were covered, the heavy fabric keeping the sunlight out.

"Luna?" Celestia called once more after receiving no reply. Ever since separating from Nightmare Moon, the younger of the two alicorns had spent all of her time either in here or out in various other places for short visits, on some kind of business that Celestia didn't ask about. So long as Luna wasn't plotting her downfall, Celestia was happy to let her little sister do whatever she wanted.

"In here, Sister!" came the distant echo of the blue alicorn's voice, and Celestia smiled, turning her head to follow the sound as she walked past the shelves. It was rather odd, she thought as her eyes traced up and down the volumes, that she didn't recognize half of these tomes, yet she had spent the past thousand and a half years accumulating them. Still, despite the fact that these were books she studied constantly, the titles were beginning to elude her as she delved into the archaic section, where the bindings had no letters to divine their purpose. She hadn't touched this area in decades, at least. Maybe even a few centuries.

She finally found Luna in the very back of the chamber, surrounded by several stacks of tomes, novels and, surprisingly, modern magazines. The clash in literature astonished her for a second, before she finally understood what was going on.

"Luna, you've been back almost a year. Surely you understand how the modern world works by now?"

Luna glanced up, looking at her sister over her workdesk, but to her credit did not look bashful or embarrassed. Instead, she simply smiled from behind her reading glasses before looking back down at the copy of _Mares Monthly_ in front of her. "Of course, Sister. I'm simply making a scientific comparison between today and before I left. Things have definitely changed, and I want to find out how much."

Celestia chuckled, unsurprised by her sister's innate curiosities. "Luna, dear Sister. Is there anything you –don't- want to study?"

Before the darker alicorn could reply, however, there was a brief flash of light that would have blinded Celestia if she were not the Princess of the sun, and a scroll materialized in front of her before dropping to the ground. Only one dragon in Ponyville had that kind of magical connection or access, and she knew it to be from Twilight Sparkle. Was she already finished with her assignment? But according to the timetable, she had only just arrived a few hours ago. The head of the Worker's League was a stubborn old stallion, and he would fight tooth and hoof for what he considered to be right. Celestia had only been through six of the meetings that had kept her from the visit herself, and she had twenty or thirty more to look forward to.

Curious now, she levitated the scroll, noticing instantly that it wasn't made of parchment like all the other notes Spike had sent her by dragonfire (even the ones sent by accidental hiccups) which was technically against the rules. Even now, she could see the edges of the paper were singed, and she tilted her head to the side as she realized it was a sheet of lined paper from a military notebook. That was indeed most odd. It wasn't even sealed, just tied with a piece of string.

Now a bit worried, she unrolled the sheet to read the message aloud. "'Dear Princess Celestia, Stalliongrad is under attack, send help! Your Student, Twilight Sparkle.' What in Equestria-?"

Celestia stared at the note, her jaw hanging as she tried to comprehend just what she was reading. She had just been in diplomatic discussions with both Hippogryph and Canida, and the Matriarchy had gotten along well enough. The Hegemony was a bit stiff, yes, but their discussions of trade and border disputes had been progressing for months now. That one of the Kingdom's cities, one of –HER- cities was being attacked was most definitely cause for alarm and astonishment.

Luna, however, was the first to react. With her horn glowing, she closed her eyes, saying "General Archer. Your presence is required in the Audience Chamber in five minutes. Bring your staff with you." Her eyes opened as the spell ended, and she looked down at the stacks of books scornfully. "I'll need to review modern military protocols and check the register. Perhaps we can send in air assets from Cloudsdale first. But that would require the Wonderbolts to be reactivated, and they're in Fillydelphia, too far away. Maybe from here, then?"

Luna glanced over at Celestia, who was still staring into space. Not many people could tell with a white-skinned horse, but Luna could see instantly that her sister had paled. And for good reason. Equestria's last war was centuries ago, and Celestia had placed command into the hooves of her Marshals, positions that hadn't been filled since the end of that conflict. Luna, however, came from a time right after a horrific and terrifying conflict with the griffons, the birth of Equestria itself.

"Sister. Celestia. You need to get a hold of yourself."

When talking didn't work, Luna sighed, knowing she would have to get drastic. With a short swing, her hoof connected with Celestia's jaw, knocking the goddess' tiara off.

"Snap out of it! We're under attack!" Abruptly, in a complete character change, Luna was suddenly up next to her sister, worriedly checking the older one's jaw. "Oh! I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"N-no. It's fine, Luna," Celestia said, still partially shocked as she picked up her tiara physically before repositioning it on her head shakily. "You're right. I need to cancel my appointments and…and call for a diplomatic session immediately."

"That's right," Luna said encouragingly, giving her sister a nudge. "And?"

"And…and I need to mobilize the Army. Send the Sky Corps first…oh, Luna. I'm no good at this!"

"I know," the younger alicorn said comfortingly, shushing her panicking sister. "It's alright, Sister. Let me take care of this, alright? You need to find out what's going on. Reply to Twilight's message, get more information. If she's there and still alive, she'll most likely have first-hand knowledge of our enemy."

Celestia nodded, summoning a scroll and quill to her quickly, thinking of a reply. It wasn't often that Celestia was frazzled or worried, and this new side of her scared both her and Luna, who always looked up to her sister as a beacon of solidity and strength. But war was not something Celestia took to well, even a thousand years ago. She was more of the public ruler, caring and wise and more than willing to visit someone to solve their problems. Luna, however, was the more political of the two, and had even commanded the armies of Equestria in days of antiquity. This was her forte, right alongside working the red-taped underbelly of a nation.

Luna was going to get them through this. With Celestia's help, of course.

* * *

><p>"<em>Short?"<em>

_The desk in front of him was piled high with his most precious possessions, items he had collected all throughout his colthood. The signed baseball from Sammy Saddlesa, the large poster of Babe Rhubarb, even a photograph of Roy Horsaday at the plate. Beside these pictures were the tools he'd used to implement his love. A bat with numerous nicks in it, the signs of balls skimmed and not fully hit, a tattered glove so used up that the laces looked about to fall apart any second now. A helmet with a large crack in it from when he had been beaned him in the head, hard._

_ He reached out to touch the treasures with a hoof…before the cast bumped into the desk and reminded him why his entire life had been wasted, ruined by every batter's worst nightmare: a colt with a fastball and no idea where the plate was. He hung his head in defeat, eyes tracing over the cheerful signatures and drawings over the plaster that did nothing to alleviate his pain._

_ "Short?"_

_His father was at the door again, trying to tell his son everything would be alright but just as crushed as he was…for the wrong reasons. And of course he would be, when a long, steady chain was abruptly broken by one single ball._

_ "Short…it'll be okay. Not everyone played professionally."_

"_Yeah?" the colt snorted, not even turning. "Name one other pony in the Stop family who didn't."_

_His father was silent, just as Short knew he would be. He glared out the window ahead of him, staring at the clear sky, nary a cloud to be seen thanks to the local Weather Team. At least Pegasi could live their dreams…_

_ "Short, that's not what's important. You're going to heal up, which means you've got unlimited possibilities ahead of you. Your Cutie Mark is just your special talent, it's not your only one. Short? Short, are you listening to me? Short? Short…"_

"Short…Short?"

"PRIVATE STOP, ATTEN-HUT!"

His eyes flew open, his legs snapping straight as he reflexively leapt off the chair, one hood flying to his helmeted head as he yelled "SIR, YESSIR!" He blinked, finally reasserting control of his motor functions, to find both Sergeant Gunn (nonplussed and frowning as always) and Twilight (looking a little startled, probably by the non-com's yell).

"Break's over Stop," Gunn said simply, turning and trotting away towards the last working steam wagon the platoon had, already surrounded by troopers lashing ammunition and other gear down.

Short snorted, already wishing he'd go back to his nap, before turning to Twilight. The unicorn had been suited up in a spare vest and helmet during the ten minutes all the troopers had to prepare before they moved out again, and somepony had obviously convinced her to wear the blue colored armor. Short raised an eyebrow. "Very fetching," he said, and Twilight blushed a little, her look of worry becoming one of annoyance.

"Better than getting my head blown off, that's for sure," she muttered, reaching down and tugging at the collar with her teeth. "This thing's too tight…"

"Then loosen it," Short suggested, reaching forward to clamp the strap between his teeth. In the next second, however, he found himself on the ground, a purple leg across his throat and the iron-hard face of the prodigy mage above him.

"Don't do that. Ever." Her iron edge suddenly softened, however, as she seemed to double-think what she was doing, backing away slowly from Short, who was staring up at her, wide-eyed. "Uh…sorry. Bad memories of belts getting pulled too tight."

"It's fine," Short replied, rolling back onto his hooves and standing, instantly forgetting the show of strength Twilight had just performed, instead rubbing at his eyes briefly before turning back, glancing over at the steam wagon. With their break finished, they'd be leaving any minute now to head towards Steed Square, and hopefully deliver Twilight to the battlemages in one piece.

"Any word from Celestia?" he asked. Twilight shook her head, readjusting her helmet once more. It was a standard Earth pony model, not made for unicorns, and as such it sat too far back to be fastened both securely and comfortably. "None," the mage replied, looking worried. "It's been a few minutes. She usually gets right back to me."

"She's just been told her kingdom is under attack," Short reminded her. "That's a bit of a bombshell right there."

"I guess."

The two returned to the steam wagon, both of them climbing inside to join Spike, already inside and strapped to a seat. Though the body armor was the wrong shape for him, he still wore an oversized helmet, clutching the restraint bar with an expression of both confidence and worry. Upon seeing his mentor enter the vehicle, he glanced around before saying "Nothing yet. Sorry, Twilight."

She sighed, nodding as she also strapped herself down. "Then we just continue to wait, I guess. Steed Square isn't that far away. We need to stay focused."

As if to underline the unicorn's words, an immense explosion went off in the distance. The winds were too heavy for them to hear the entire battle, but the Square was close enough that they already knew things were going pear-shaped.

Twilight chuckled to herself, and Short leaned forward, his goggles in his hooves, in the process of cleaning them. "What's so funny?" he asked.

"Yesterday I was trying to get everything in Ponyville organized so it would function for me when I got back. Now, I don't even know if I'll ever leave alive."

"Hey, you can't think like that. Pessimism means the enemy has already won," Short said, replacing his goggles before yawning, failing to cover it up from Twilight's notice.

"Tired?"

"Yeah. Didn't get much sleep last night. All this fighting isn't helping."

Twilight glanced at the clock mounted inside the wagon, frowning beneath her helmet. "This attack's only been going on for a few hours or so. How can it be getting so bad?"

Short checked his own armor's straps once more, even though he'd done so twice now. Sergeant Gunn and Sergeant Lilac, the last two commanders in the platoon alive, had agreed that all wounded and VIPs get priority inside the steam wagon. Even now, the groans of the six or seven ponies who had lived through their wounds was beginning to grate on his ears, and he needed a distraction.

"Last radio report we got at the outpost before we left said the enemy outnumbered the police three or four to one. That's twenty-thousand enemies, right there. With the reserves and police on our side, we're maybe eight-thousand." He looked Twilight straight in the eye. "There's no way we can protect everywhere. But that seems to be what Colonel Eye is trying to do."

Twilight bit her lip at that comment. "I thought you said pessimism was admitting the enemy has won?"

Short laughed, reciting the saying that kept all soldiers from being hypocrites to their own comments. "A pessimist is what an optimist calls a realist. Trust me, Twilight. In the Army, there's always a loophole somewhere. Eye's probably trying to cover evacuating civilians before he pulls back to the City Center."

Twilight looked on, incredulously. "You can't be serious. You mean he's not going to counter-attack?"

"Counter-attack with what?" Short snapped, his fatigue getting the best of him. "I just bucking told you, we're outnumbered and cut off! The best thing we can do is curl up and hope they don't break through our shell! If you can't get that through your skull, we should drop you off in the nearest safe house so we can move on without your inept flank!"

Silence reigned in the wagon for several long seconds, and Short blinked, realizing just what he'd said in his rant, turning to Twilight to give an apology. However, the look of hurt and anger on her face was enough to make him cringe, and he silently turned back. No one spoke, not daring to press the issue and make things worse. Instead, they listened to the clunks and murmurs of the ponies outside, readying the wagon to move into the hottest battle in the city.

Suddenly, Spike grimaced, his face contorting mere seconds before a loud belch tore from his lips, sending green flames splashing against the wagon's ceiling, leaving a painful looking scorch mark-and a scroll. Spike immediately snatched it up, turning and holding it to Twilight, who took it gratefully, the awkward silence forgotten.

"'Twilight,'" she read "'I need your help. You need to tell me about these invaders and the situation so far. Help is on the way right now. Princess Luna is summoning the Sky Corps.' That's good, right?" She turned to Short, who shrugged, truly unsure. "Dunno. Depends on how many they send and what the dogs are hauling in to counter Pegasi."

Accepting his word as fact, Twilight turned back to the scroll and continued reading. "'In the meantime, stay safe and get to the garrison. We're attempting to contact Colonel Eagle Eye, the local commander. Good luck, Princess Celestia.'"

Twilight raised an eyebrow at the note, gritting her teeth. "Good luck? That's it?"

"She did say to stay safe…" Spike offered unhelpfully, getting a withering glare from Twilight.

"And to get to the garrison. Which is where we're headed," Short reminded her, leaning over to look at the scroll himself. "Question is, will we get there in time to make a difference?"

* * *

><p>To be honest, I'm not completely satisfied with this chapter, but if I go back and edit everything I want to edit, it'll never get released! Instead, I leave it to you all to decide!<p>

~Warhorse


	6. Chapter 6: Surge

So, here we are, folks! The halfway point of our epic tale! As I'm sure you will notice, I put a lot of hard work into this chapter. Many hours spent burning the midnight oil simply because I refused to give up an idea! I can't promise such things in the future, but I can guarantee the same level of dedication to this story for sure.

And now, responses! Or, response...singular.

**CommanderRy:** I'll never tell...until its time in the fic, anyway.

And so, once again, more soldierpony that you could shake a stick at or bounce off your hooves!

* * *

><p><strong>Guardians<strong>

**Chapter 6: Surge**

Stalliongrad, Northern Equestria

Steed Square, Industrial Sector

There were hundreds of them, perhaps even thousands.

They continued to stream in from every possible entrance, immune to their own losses as they charged across the large plaza, guns firing not only at the Army and police ponies dug in on the far side, but randomly into the air, as if wasting ammunition was just as unimportant as their own lives.

By Celestia, the things were bestial. Every one of them should be exterminated.

"Got line of sight. He's out by the temple, one hundred meters to the east from the steps."

Her spotter, Golden Rays, looked up from the telescope before her, glancing at the sniper herself. "Got that, Craft?"

"Yeah, got it…" Craft replied, repositioning the large rifle before putting her eye to the scope, bringing the sights upon the Temple of the Sun and Moon. While religion was never taken as a big thing in Equestria and almost never publicized, it was expected of everypony to at least pay tribute to the Princesses in some form of prayer. Hence, the popularity of the temples.

Steed Square played host to several monuments, ranging from the Temple itself to several star cafes and even the old palace, where the governor ruled the city (or what was to become the city) back in the days before Nightmare Moon's banishment. The Castle of the Duke was a little-known landmark, and might draw in more visitors to see it if Mayor Caesar ever decided to stop being stingy and actually deal out a few bits on developing the city itself. Currently, however, its most important feature was the no-pony's-land stretching between the Royal Army and the crude scrap barricades established by the diamond dogs, over which the canines would scramble to join the assault.

The telescopic scope settled on the statue of the Princess sisters out in front of the temple, and Craft slowly moved the high-caliber weapon around, bringing her sights squarely on a helmeted head. For all intents and purposes, a marksman yoke was almost the same as a recoilless rifle, save for the solid bullets it fired, not shells. The gun was designed for pinpoint accuracy, not explosive firepower. However, it also required a secondary bipod to be deployed and provide stability, but Craft was grateful for it as she sighted on the dog. Her prey in question was one she had seen multiple times, wearing simple white fatigues under a black combat vest and a similarly colored headpiece, this time a steel helmet. The camouflage was less detailed than the Royal Army's own winter battledress, but the fact that some of these diamond dogs wore it was an indicator that they were important, also supported by the way they directed the flow of the hundreds of other dogs.

In fact, if Craft was to give it her best guess, she might almost think these strange commanders were…

Something shifted in the middle of the Square, amidst all the flying bullets and explosives. Sure, the bricks were being constantly chipped and blown away, but the sudden humps that appeared in the stonework were nothing a simple shell could do. Not from up top, anyway. The nature of the mystery revealed itself, however, as the red stone suddenly broke in a shower of dust and dirt, sending a plume of earth several meters into the air. It was followed shortly after by several other breaks in the stone, and Craft knew instantly what they were. Golden was more on the ball than she, however, and immediately keyed her radio, breaking communication silence protocol and yelling "S-Com, this is Sightseer Two! We have line of sight on several enemy burrowers in Steed Square! Seeing six, no, seven tunnels emerging from the brickwork, advise all other units be alerted to possibility of subterranean flanking, over!"

Any reply command made was lost to Craft as she raised the rifle once more, gritting her teeth as she watched her target barking orders (literally) to another group of hapless halfwits, his paw moving in sharp, short movements as he leaned around the statue, exposing himself to get a better view…

Craft squeezed the bit-trigger, and the round flew, a bullet the size of her hoof that smashed into the dog's upper torso, tearing his arm away with a crimson cascade of blood that most certainly would kill the mongrel if the shock of the impact hadn't already. As her target fell to the snow, staining it a sickly red, Craft took her eye off the scope, releasing the bit trigger as the rifle ejected the spent casing, loading a new round.

"Gold, is Command still listening? I think I got a doozy for them."

* * *

><p>"And that's it?" Gunn asked, an incredulous look on his face. "A promise for air reinforcements without even saying where they're from or when they'll get here?"<p>

Twilight nodded, taking back the parchment and rolling it back into the scroll it had arrived as. "The Princesses are operating without knowing what's going on down here. I'm sure they'll send all the help they can, but you can't blame them for being vague."

"Vague? That's downright normal for orders," Gunn said, shrugging nonchalantly. "At least they bothered to send a notice."

Twilight was immediately both disgusted and mystified by the sergeant's disrespectful words about Princess Celestia (and Luna, too). To think anyone could speak ill about their monarch yet say they continued to serve them was downright…confusing.

"Uh, care to explain a little more?" the lavender unicorn asked, a frown on her brow, attempting to keep her flash of anger in check.

Gunn frowned himself, looking a little put off at her question, though if that was because of her actually asking it or because he'd never thought to explain it she couldn't tell.

"Well…think of it like this. See this steam wagon here?" Gunn banged a hoof on the side of the machine, to which ponies were still securing supplies and double-checking the gear stowed to it. Twilight nodded, though suspected the question to be rhetorical. "Let's say the battalion needed another one. The order would have to be filed from the master mechanic in the motor pool. It goes from him to the Colonel's desk, who reviews it before sending it on. From there, it reaches Canterlot at Royal Army High Command, the office that keeps charge of…what's left of the military. Now, this is where it gets tricky. Ordinarily, the form should be looked over by an aide, rewritten four times to file away, and then passed on to the general in charge of supply before the copies of the _copies_ are tripled and filed away elsewhere. Then-"

"Okay! Gunn, I think I get it. There's a lot of paperwork involved," Twilight said, suddenly realizing just where he was going. Obviously, some people would rather 'lose' a request or notice than go through the entire procedure, even if it was important. Peace in Equestria was slowly killing the military through the choking amounts of red tape, lessening her incredulity at the swiftness with which the dogs had overtaken the city. Supply lines were neglected, notices put off…or was that simply an inflated version?

"How do you know this stuff anyway, Gunn?" she asked curiously, tilting her head to the side, feeling the helmet slide a little ways. The sergeant smiled down at her, and she could see the longer whiskers of five-o'clock shadow poking through the hair around his muzzle, indicating he hadn't shaved in some time.

"About six years back or so, I got into a scrap with a dragon who'd been rampaging through the Residential Sector after being denied more valuable gemstones to snack on. The police weren't able to do anything with their non-lethal arsenal and stunning magic, so my squad rolled in."

"Oh, no!" Twilight said, grimacing at the thought of one of Spike's kin (and by extension the possibility of Spike himself) receiving lethal measures from the Royal Army.

"Easy, easy. We didn't use our guns. Couldn't bring them with us. Instead, we hit him with a mixture of tear gas, sleep spells and stun grenades. Started lashing around like crazy, fractured my skull with his tail in the process. From what I heard, he went down easily enough, though." He chuckled, rubbing a hoof over the back of his neck. "I was laid out for six months in recovery, and I couldn't stand being cooped up in a house somewhere with nothing to do, so they temporarily reassigned me to Logistics. Hay, what a head trip that was. By the Princesses, I hope I never go back to that bureaucratic nightmare again…"

Twilight was beginning to understand where, as a soldier, Sergeant Gunn was. Positioned in a seat of command over his ponies, he demanded a lot of respect, and got it for sure. But the fact of the matter was that while the large pony tried to support the monarchy he fought for, his commanders' lack of initiative about everything was wearing away at him. Suddenly, the sullen mood Short had earlier during his anger snap began to make sense. These soldiers weren't expecting support or backup.

It was interesting what you could learn in a few words of conversation.

"Hey, Miss Sparkle?"

"Sergeant, I've told you, it's just Twilight." she said, smiling up at the squad commander, who smiled uneasily in return. "You don't have to get all formal on me simply because I'm your VIP!

"Right…Twilight. You say you're from Ponyville? What's it like this time of year?"

She frowned, glancing around. The battle raged in the background, just within hearing range, and it was obvious that these ponies were simply making busy before the command to roll out came along. Sergeant Lilac had her ponies doing runs with their saddle-bags on and double checking their equipment while Gunn's troopers simply tightened straps, looking altogether relieved. The big blue draft mare Twilight had learned was named Azure seemed bored out of her skull, leaning against the steam wagon with her eyes half-closed. The brown colt Maple, however, seemed twitchy as all hay. He continually checked his rifle, head snapping up at every boom in the distance (which was so often Twilight was surprised the young stallion hadn't put a strain in his neck).

"Ponyville? It's springtime out there. We just wrapped up winter, so business is picking up quite a bit. Why? Haven't you been outside the city?"

"Nope," Gunn replied, scratching his chin with his hoof. "Born and raised here, in Stalliongrad. So was Maple, and so was Azure. Nearly all of the colts and fillies in the battalion are local recruits, straight from the factories. Hay, the only other pony I know of that's not local at all is Stop."

"Wait, what?" Reflexively, Twilight glanced back, looking for the familiar gray pony. Short hadn't said a word to her since the message from Celestia had arrived, and she felt he was trying to make up for his outburst. It was a little heartbreaking, actually. Aside from Spike, Short was the only real friend she had in this entire city, even if the only reason he was there was to guard her because his orders said to.

"I'm not surprised you didn't catch it," Gunn said, reaching into his vest and extracting a wheat sprig, sticking it between his teeth and beginning to chew. "Short tries very hard to be a model soldier and fit in. Does a darned good job of it, too. Thing is, when he was first transferred here, I caught his accent a few times. Still, if I hadn't know he'd come from Savanneigh, I might have missed it."

"He's from where?" The mage was now honestly curious. Applejack had once told her that her own father was from down south around that area, the same region that the frontier and Appleloosa sat in. But Short had spoken with only smooth, curt tones like any Manehattian or Canterlot local, and only once had she caught the slip.

"Yeah, you should have heard him the first week he was here. 'Eeeeyup!' Colt was so excited…" Gunn's voice drifted for a second, as did his expression, before he snapped back into the iron hard sergeant that he was, tucking his sprig away and standing up straight once more. "But enough of that. I've probably already wasted enough of your time, Miss Sparkle. I'd advise waiting until we reach the garrison to respond to the Princess."

And with that, Gunn did an about face (a surprisingly grateful turn for a draft horse of his size) and trotted off, yelling at Maple when the colt dropped a grenade (fortunately, the pin was still in it).

What was it with these soldiers? Friendly one minute, stern and professional the next. At first, she'd thought it to be just some weird personality trait of Short, but now Sergeant Gunn was doing it too? What a strange pattern of characteristics. And then there was Short himself. His outburst could be attributed to stress from combat and lack of sleep, but that last part concerned her. He hadn't slept? Why?

And why was she trying to help everyone else when she should be taking care of herself? She was acting so much like Applejack, for some reason.

She clambered back through the hatch into the wagon, her purpose outside fulfilled. The wounded ponies were still sprawled all over the floor, and without a medic of some kind their injuries couldn't be tended to yet. Which meant the poor equines were moaning or sobbing in pain as they suffered from bullet wounds, broken bones, shrapnel or burns.

She tried to ignore the sounds of pain in the air as she stepped carefully over the broken and bleeding bodies, patched up with field kits, and strap herself into her seat. Short still kept his gaze fixed forward, eyes locked on the wall. The purple unicorn glanced down at Spike, but the baby dragon shrugged, a look midway between concern and indifference on his scaled features.

However, before Twilight could turn back to Short and ask him what the problem was, the hatch suddenly swung shut, sealing with the hiss of steam valves as the radio intercom said _"Heads up! The Square is about to be abandoned! Orders are to move out now and hope for the best! This is it, ponies!"_

* * *

><p>They'd halted. For now, at least.<p>

Major Zo Di'ac had to admit, the dogs were tenacious. Were she battling the hyenas of her homeland, she would have no doubt that the Royal Army would have easily turned the mongrels away. But actual dogs were apparently made of tougher stuff than that.

Currently, the Square was mostly empty, back to its drawn lines and barricades on either side that had been hastily erected. Piles upon piles of filthy canine corpses were in bloody stacks everywhere, indicating just how badly the dogs had suffered to get as far in as they had (which wasn't very far). Still, the ponies hadn't gotten off lightly themselves, either. Behind her, the recovered corpses of at least thirty ponies in battledress were laid out, covered reverently by white sheets and sent on their way to Princess Luna's Gateway. Or, so the pony myth went. Di'ac considered herself a little above religion, but knew spirituality had a heavy influence when your patron deities actually lived with you.

Next to the soldiers were dead police ponies, those who had stayed to help the Army hold the line. They numbered twice as much in alive and dead, and they were tended to as well. Meanwhile, the civilians who had come to the Square seeking shelter had been met with a very grim fate indeed. Di'ac narrowed her eyes out at the occasional splash of color in the Square, the sign of some unfortunate worker trying to run to safety…and never making it. There were dozens of dead civilian ponies scattered across the battlefield, most of them near the diamond dogs' infernal tunnels, erupting like zits out of the brickwork.

And then there was the whole matter of the attack itself. Diamond dogs weren't organized, not nearly this well-armed and most definitely not ambitious enough to try and slaughter an entire city. Although, one of her sniper teams had reported something that revealed something much darker and more sinister…

"Major?"

She turned, looking back at her second in command, a sergeant by the name of Conway. Captain Linden had been wounded in the course of combat, and was even now being sent back aboard her company's last functioning steam wagon (she winced as her eye caught the burnt out wrecks of the other two, the first victims of the dogs' tremendous firepower). Normally, having a sergeant take over for a lieutenant wasn't such an unusual thing (as far as she understood from protocol, of course), but Conway irritated her in more ways than one; the orange unicorn was from Section Five, the battalion's nickname for Fifth Company, the battalion's mages.

And the stallion was a major pain in the flank.

"Can I have a word with you?" Conway asked, ducking his head as another rocket tore overhead, smashing into the tall brick wall that formed their rear perimeter. Di'ac, by contrast, didn't even flinch. She'd seen war before, in her homeland as well as against the dogs of the area. She knew when a threat was incoming.

"Make it short, my mage friend. Our time here is almost at an end," she replied, reaching up and touching the brim of her helmet as a chorus of dog bullets smacked into the sandbags behind her.

"That's what I need to speak to you about, Major. I'm aware you have orders from the Colonel, and I need to respectfully request that you hold the line just a little longer. We've received word from Buckboard Two that our VIPs are en route." Conway spoke with the air of somepony speaking down to one from another class, and Zo was perfectly aware of the unicorn's outlook on her people and their current political relationship with Equestria. However, she was a full-blown citizen now, and she didn't give a hoot about some stuck up unicorn's biased and undeserved opinion.

"We have not heard anything on the radio lines. I was almost thinking it was time. We need to move soon, or face our imminent doom."

"But surely you can hold for a few more minutes, ma'am. These trenches are perfectly secure, your ponies have proved it time and time again-"

Conway halted mid-sentence, surprised to see Di'ac's hoof up in his face.

"You see those bodies, lying over yonder? How many have –you- lost, I dare to ponder? We will hold this position five minutes more, before my troopers and I go to the garrison's door."

The arrogant snot tried again. "But Major, you're the battalion's second in command. Surely you can-"

"Sergeant, my orders are quite clear. They say do not hold here." Di'ac fixed the unicorn with the most intimidating stare she could, her eyes narrowed as she watched some of the pomp vanish from the mage's face. "Five minutes more only. Then you'll be alone for your precious pony."

Abruptly, the argument was interrupted by Corporal Olive Drab, Di'ac's radio pony, who cried out "Ma'am, got something from Buckboard Two!"

"Spit it out, Corporal!" Conway snapped, his crisp and infuriating nature reasserting itself. Drab glanced at the zebra, confusion and a need for clarification in the colt's eyes, and Di'ac drew herself up, glancing over her shoulder at the no-pony's-land of the Square before answering "Repeat the message to our guest, so we can assist with our very best."

"Yes ma'am," Drab said, unsure but unwilling to break orders. "A Sergeant Lilac of D-platoon, Second company reports they've got wounded and VIPs. They'll be coming from the west, request directions."

"Well, give the dang sergeant directions, and make sure they're aware of the situation here!" Conway snapped, the unicorn's teeth gritted. A bullet snapped overhead and he irritably put up a magic shield over himself, deflecting the rocket that came zooming in, bouncing away and detonating harmlessly in the air.

While not appreciating the undercut to her authority, Di'ac said nothing. It was the same call she would have made. The dogs had no clue there was a VIP in the area, as the call had been broadcast that the mayor, his council and the chief of police were all safe and secure in City Center. All other VIPs had been accounted for, save two. At least Conway hadn't overreached and ordered escorts to go out and meet the wagon...

"Sending," replied Drab, his voice also strained as he tried to live with the sore attitude of Conway. Di'ac had served with Drab as her aide long enough to know when the colt was upset about something, and right now she could see all the signs. She'd left Zebrabwe with a hope for a new life, somewhere she could make a name for herself without watching a land torn by violence. Turned out, Equestria simply had a gilded curtain, rather than the gold core everypony thought was there. While the small towns and communities were indeed close-knit and peaceful, the larger cities followed the more realistic trend of their rotten roots. Crime was still a factor in Equestria, leading to the police ponies in the major cities, and as firearms were expressly illegal to anyone outside the police or Royal Army, civilians had nothing to defend themselves with (the new weapon for solving hostile disputes was pies, strangely effective at knocking out combatants, as shown in the Appleloosa Stand).

At least things weren't as bad as back in Zebrabwe, where major political upheaval happened everyday, and Princess Celestia did nothing to stop the civil wars that kept popping up but try and talk, despite the lies told to her face…

Abruptly, Di'ac's thoughts were cut into by a trooper pony nearby saying, her voice full of alarm "What in Equestria is –that?-" The Major snapped her head up, eyes boggling and jaw dropping as she spotted the object that had so many of her troopers astounded. For once, Conway also had nothing to say as he gaped in turn, the magic shield over his head fizzling out as he broke his concentration.

The machine was in the sky, not so much resembling a giant bird as some boat that some stupid pony had decided would function up in the air. A rounded partition of glass graced the front, and machinegun barrels poked out from underneath it. Doors opened on the sides, exposing more guns in the closed bay behind the glass and under two fat, stubby wings that looked like they had no business being on something that flew. Mounted next to the guns were bulging pods, the heads of rockets peeking out like snakes from a den, vipers ready to strike. The thing was held up, seemingly, by the two enormous disks positioned over one another, mounted to the machine's back. The entire craft had a shark-like feel to it, something evil and malicious, ready to strike at any time, it's mottled brown metal skin dully reflecting the little sunlight that was shining through the clouds of smoke and snow overhead.

There was no doubt about it. About what she was seeing.

The gyrocopter buzzed overhead, as if not even paying Steed Square any attention at all, before peeling around and heading off to the north once more, from whence it came. The entire encounter only lasted sixteen seconds, but it seemed a lifetime to Di'ac, who had to force her jaw shut and the jitters in her spine away.

Sergeant Conway, meanwhile, was a little more shaken up.

"What was that? What the BUCK was that?"

Drab, however, reacted in a way more fitting to a soldier, immediately reaching down and, after fumbling with the tuning knob for a few seconds, found the correct frequency, reporting "Three Charlie to Command. Come in Command. This is a priority radio call, hostile aircraft spotted overhead. Repeat, we have a gyrocopter in the area."

Major Di'ac turned to look over at the dog barricades, a frown on her face as the howl of hundreds of gleeful canines came to her ears, a sound she would be more than happy to forget as she realized the inevitable truth.

"Drab! Order all squads to their posts and send the word! We're closing shop and avoiding that bird!"

Swiftly, trooper ponies turned around, manning their posts once more as medics and their aides began hefting the wounded out. With the intact soldiers manning the trenches, however, it would take forever for the injured to be hefted to the garrison, and the dogs were attacking now, pouring out past their barricades even now.

The roar of an engine came to Di'ac's ears, and the zebra turned her head to look out towards the west, at a row of abandoned factories, just in time for a steam wagon to come crashing through a cart, machine gun firing and its trooper escort moving into cover, laying down fire to let the machine through.

"Well, would you look at that sight. Conway was for once actually right…" she muttered, cocking her rifle before grasping the bit-trigger in her teeth.

It was going to be a long withdrawal…

* * *

><p>Behold! You asked, and so you recieved! My hope is that by publishing this -early- I can at least give myself more time on the next chapter, which I promise will be even longer than this one! Until next time, you crazy crazy bronies!<p> 


	7. Chapter 7: Knock Knock

(I return, mortals! Bow in fear and admiration as I unleash my fury upon your pathetic souls and-

Oh...wait...wrong return speech. Excuse for a second... *shuffle shuffle*

Ah, here we go! War Horse here, everyone! I feel I must apologize for the brief hiatus I took, as my job consumed all my time until my vacation time due to a new office change. Fortunately, things have settled down, and I am back!

And now, responses!

**Leader of the Wolf Pack:** Ah! Another one added to the fold! I have made another convert!

**ev11:** well, I might reveal the origin in this chapter...or the next one...but I'll definitely be sewing that one up for sure.

**paxtofettel: **well, I'm glad to see you are enjoying it, and I'm hoping you'll come back once more!

**Blumiru:** funny thing about story writing, Applebloom...its hard to do when real life gets in the way. I'm just kidding, we've all been there before.

And, though I have yet to say it, a special shout out to all the people who follow my stories in anonymity. It is my dearest hope that you review soon to give your opinions! Other than that, thank you for following me all this way!

Now, back to the fic!)**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Guardians<strong>

**Chapter 7: Knock-Knock**

Stalliongrad, Northern Equestria

71st Royal Army Battalion Garrison

Radio Room

"Chief Star, maybe I'm not making myself clear. You and your officers are outmatched, outgunned and outnumbered. You need to abandon the precinct and fall back to the garrison immediately, as well as turn over all command authority to me."

"_Colonel, I wish you'd have some faith in my officers. This is their home, and they're going to hold it –because- it's their home, not because some idiot in a beret behind six hooves of concrete tells them to."_

"Star, most of my recruits are from this city too! Don't you dare put down my troopers! As for you, my scouts estimate your building will be surrounded in ten minutes, and that gyrocopter-"

"_I highly doubt a Colonel with no real authority in a position he was –given- has the right to speak like he knew what he was doing to a pony who actually climbed the ranks himself! My officers have dismissed your claims already, and as for this 'gyrocopter', I highly doubt its existence. Your troopers are simply seeing things and panicking. I strongly recommend-"_

Without another word, Eagle Eye dropped the radio headset, turning away in disgust. The fact that Chief Star could stay so deluded and such an idiot voluntarily was staggering to the mind. And to think that Mayor Caesar had been about to hand command authority to him mere hours ago!

Said mayor was currently standing behind the colonel, nervously glancing about at the whirlwind of activity around them, the drone of ponies as they relayed messages and dictated standing orders and protocol. So far, they were holding their perimeter, but as shown in Steed Square, the dogs were slowly closing the noose around the garrison, and the battalion was taking heavy losses.

Eagle turned to Caesar, who nervously asked "Did you reach the Chief?"

"No," replied the Colonel as he clopped past, intent on finding another mug of coffee. "Just some bucking idiot who's about to die."

As he left the radio room, he ran into Lieutenant Razor, standing in the hall with a stack of files under his arm. Razor was an oddity in the Royal Army, not because of his name, but his species. Zebras who enlisted were accepted with open arms and introduced immediately to the service so long as they were Equestrian citizens. Sure, the culture clash got in the way sometimes, but there had been no major incidents. Dragons, on the other hoof, were another matter altogether.

Razor was green-scaled, most of it hidden beneath his neatly pressed and recently steamed blue uniform, with a red row of spines going down his back, causing the only disruption in his uniform aside from its general shape (trousers, for example. You could count the number of tailors who made trousers in Equestria on one…never mind) Razor was also no baby, for he stood at least a hoof and a half taller than Eagle Eye, and was forced to hunch through doorways.

But despite his physical differences, Eagle wouldn't have traded him for anypony else. Dragons were famous for being able to apply themselves to organizational tasks, and many famous accountants and entrepreneurs in the Kingdom were dragons. Of course, being handy with jewels and enormous piles of coins helped out in that area as well.

"Colonel. I assume your call did not go well," Razor said, automatically falling into step with his commander, paging through the file as he searched for some paperwork.

"Do you have to ask? The idiot's convinced he can hold the entire Industrial Sector all by himself. Meanwhile, he's got half his officers in the meat grinder, a few hundred more overseeing the evacuation to the Residential Sector and the rest are either hiding or just plain dead!"

"Colonel, I'm sure it's not that bad. Now, to get your mind off of that. I have the report from that scout team you sent to the harbor." Razor cut himself off as he ducked under the doorway into the garrison's command center, filled with maps and charts, as well as the master map of the city plotted using on-the-dot information regarding troop movements and known enemy positions (blue for friendly units, red for enemies. Understandably, there was an enormous mass of ugly red and not so many scattered blues left). A wide window graced one side, looking out over the garrison in all its neglected, stone-washed glory.

The high concrete walls of the facility were especially gray and bleak today with the new snowfall, and the grounds below had turned into a twisted, muddy mess. Soldier ponies and steam wagons were constantly going out, loaded down with equipment, and their wounded and damaged counterparts coming back for repair and medical treatment. The med-bay could service two-hundred wounded ponies, and it was already up more than half. Dogs didn't really take prisoners or leave survivors.

The service pad in the corner was playing host to the flow of Pegasus ponies coming down, rearming and taking off for another combat operation. Eagle Eye had ordered constant air support from what little they had, and it didn't help that their small stockpile of heavy munitions was already old and outdated, but they made do with what they had and went full steam like they had a real logistics train flowing back to Canterlot.

The battle had been raging for less than five hours now, and already the city had been caused such enormous devastation. Blasts from ordnance and artillery boomed in the distance, flattening buildings and carving holes in the roads. In the center of the yard, three heavy artillery pieces had been set up, their guns elevated for long-range. Dozens of spent shell casings littered the mud around them, discarded and forgotten as they were pulled from the breeches to be replaced by new rounds. Sixth Company was the battalion's logistics and fire support group, and Captain Tancy was a lifetime professional, like Eagle Eye. She knew how to run a tight crew, and kept her ponies on a strict routine that was most definitely paying off now.

As he approached the window, Eagle fixed his gaze on the six hulking, stationary forms over by the main gate, machines that, at a glance, could be mistaken for steam wagons. But these creations were no mere transport, oh no. The latest in Equestrian technological prowess, these wagons came with a cannon-armed turret mounted up top, extra armor, and more powerful steam engines. Battlewagons, as they were called, represented the height of Equestria's war gear, a sad fact when you thought about it. The Hegemony and even the Matriarchy had been fielding so called 'tanks' for at least a decade now, and the canines had even used them in their impromptu (and unsuccessful) invasion of Zebrabwe five years ago. The fact that these machines had only just been distributed to the garrisons around Equestria in the last six months or so was grave news indeed, especially with what Eye suspected was happening even now, beneath the disguise this attack gave.

Finally, Colonel Eye sighed and looked back at Razor, waiting patiently by the master command table, file open and ready for the briefing. "Go ahead, Lieutenant."

"Right, sir." Razor instantly spread out several documents, a few of them actually photographs taken from the air. "As you requested, I had Viper element of Fourth Company fly over the harbor and recon the area. Unfortunately, only six Pegasi were left, meaning we had limited coverage. But we did find the gyrocopter and tailed it back to its original landing spot."

Razor pushed a large photograph forward, and the colonel frowned down at it as he tried to make sense of the image. Photography was a mastered technology in Equestria, but there was still little they could do to improve the quality of an expanded image. Still, despite the blurs Eagle Eye spotted the gyrocopter, the harbor, the boats docked there, and finally…

"That's a ship. A big ship."

"Yes sir," Razor agreed, looking down at the report before him. "An old Hegemonic cargo hauler. They originally pulled into port saying they were here to pick up a shipment of gems to take back to Canida. Approximately six minutes after the port authority cleared them, the first attacks began."

"Chance of coincidence?" Eye said, raising an eyebrow to show his apparent skepticism that this was the case.

"Not very likely, sir. Especially since that gyrocopter was seen landing on the cargo elevator. Perfect fit." Razor slid the picture to the side and made a mark with a nearby quill on the large map stretched over the table, designating the ship's position in the harbor. It was positioned just right to get a good view of the Industrial Sector from the water, parked at high anchor and untouchable for the time being.

"But why tip their hand now?" Eye muttered, frowning as he stared at the photograph, his narrowed eyes fixed on the blurry aircraft. "They could have kept that thing hidden and let the dogs massacre us and we wouldn't have known any better."

Razor shrugged, looking nonplussed, his default expression. "As for that, I can only guess. They made no attacks on their viewing of the area, and all teams who reported it stated no sign of any insignia. It could belong to the diamond dogs of the area and they simply needed to find something…" Even the dragon didn't sound like he believed his own words, so the colonel didn't bother to correct him.

"No attacks? Then this was one high-profile hay of a scouting mission…" he muttered, checking over several sheets of the documents Razor had brought. As for the diamond dogs coming into possession of a full-blown CAH-221 Falcon, he very much doubted that. There were no markings, as Razor had said, but Eye saw the picture clear as day; a plausible deniability mission. A loophole through which someone could escape national backlash.

"Tell me about these soldiers spotted in the city," he said, pulling another photo over with a hoof. In it, the bullet-chewed remains of one of the armored dogs lay on a street, blood leaking out of several wounds and staining the white fatigues a sickeningly deep crimson. "They certainly fit the bill."

"Of course, Colonel. As you can see, the dogs in question wear no insignia, but the body armor is a dead giveaway, as well as the advanced equipment. This is all the latest in Canid equipment that we know about. RKH-61 rifles, J2F sidearms and CM100 grenades. These guys are packing some serious gear."

"And any conclusions about the diamond dogs themselves?"

Razor glanced up, a worried look passing over his face. If the dragon was actually admitting to some stress, even without saying it, then the situation was bad indeed.

"A few corpses were brought in and examined, but I have something to show you in these pictures. This one," he indicated one photograph of a large, bulky dog in a battered, black leather vest studded with cracked and broken gemstones. This one dog had died of a fusillade of rounds in the chest, rendering his torso into a bloody mess. "Is a dog collected by the police a few months ago, when that eastern pack carried out a few robberies. They sent us into the hills after them."

"We lost two soldiers in that raid," Eye muttered, gritting his teeth at the thought of that idiot Iron Star.

Razor continued, already knowing too well of the rivalry and animosity shared between the Colonel and the Chief. He pulled another photo over, one more recent. This dog was splayed out over the bricks of Stalliongrad, half his head gone. Instead of leather and gems, however, he wore a simple cloth vest, devoid of any ornamentation. Eagle Eye frowned as he studied the picture, seeing a collar but no gemstones anywhere. Strange. Diamond dogs loved decorating their clothing with valuable gems.

"This one is from today. Upon looking at his neck, this was discovered."

A third photo was added to the pile, showing a patch of exposed skin, a place where the fur had been shaved down to the scalp. Tattooed on the skin was a series of numbers and letters, written in the Common Language. There were about sixteen numbers, spelling out some kind of code that Eye didn't understand, but knew Razor would identify for him.

"That is the code for Kennel Island, the Hegemony's premier military prison for deserters, war criminals and other dishonorables that they just can't execute. Every other corpse recovered today has the same tattoo, in the same place." The dragon glanced up at the colonel, and the realization went unsaid, already figured out by them both. The connection was just all too obvious.

Colonel Eye nodded, looking over their collected data and putting the numbers together in his head, adding them all up to a gut-wrenching equation at the end.

"So, we've got all the earmarks of a Canid black op. The diamond dogs are all war criminals, armed and sent into the city en masse from the ship. Promised their freedom, maybe? Either way, low amounts of survivors expected, and they'll be released in Equestria, so it's no skin off Canida's hide. They're watched over and directed by actual soldiers, either the Hegemonic Army or some super-secret-doesn't-exist group, and given real-time command from their base of operations in the harbor and fire support and recon from a gyrocopter. We've got all the signs that this is a definitive military action, probably a shadow strike with the criminals as a flimsy cover and no insignia as a way to deny it, but what's the target? What are they after?"

An explosion boomed off in the distance, drowning out even the continual drum roll of the artillery in the yard below, an ill portent of what was to come.

The grim reality of war struck Twilight once more at the garrison. Sergeant Conway had told her she no longer had to worry, that everything was okay and she'd be safe once she got there. No place in Stalliongrad was more secure, he'd said. But inside these walls, Twilight felt more exposed than ever. After passing the hustle and bustle and escaping the chaos of combat, the concrete and steel around her felt…alien. She didn't belong here, nopony belonged here, in this cold and unnatural environment of rock and metal.

Yet it seemed to be the one place she'd seen so far that seemed at least moderately safe from the dogs. Never mind the hulking presence of the armored machines near the gates, never mind the artillery booming in the center of the yard, never mind the hundred or so ponies running around trying to sort things out or standing at their post, watching fervently out as the city burned. No, the reason this place seemed to be shelter was thanks to the limited amount of damage to the walls themselves. They were aged concrete, a few with holes in the plaster, but the layers underneath were intact, standing strong against the elements. She knew those walls wouldn't fail.

Or maybe she was finally going nuts and over examining things.

She giggled softly to herself, smiling as she muttered "Twilight Sparkle, you have officially lost your mind…"

"Uh, Twilight? You feeling okay?"

The mage glanced down to meet the worried gaze of her purple assistant, looking up at her from beneath his too-big helmet as they strode down the main hall, led by Short, Gunn and Conway. Apparently, the Colonel had standing orders for the troopers to bring her and Spike before him as soon as they set hoof on base. Major Di'ac, polite as she was, refused to enter the halls for the simple reason that she needed to tend to her wounded and organize the survivors to fall in with the base's defense personnel around the walls and in the trenches outside, but Twilight suspected that it was because the zebra couldn't stand to be near the arrogant unicorn. Personally, she'd never seen a mage more full of himself (as a rule all unicorns tended to have at least one small bit of self-importance in them), but at least Conway appeared to be able to back up his swagger with some potent battle-magic, shields and bolts far stronger than her own and packing potent lethality.

Conway was now striding up the stairs, leading the group to the next floor as more ponies in armor and battledress rushed back and forth past them, some wearing helmets, some wearing caps, but most of them wearing some kind of bandage, either around their head, leg or peeking out from beneath their vests.

It seemed strange to her that a wounded pony would want to be up and around when they'd just been injured (but then she thought back to Applejack and Big Macintosh and their dedication to Sweet Apple Acres and her doubts were blown away) but she voiced her opinion anyway. "These ponies got hurt in the fighting, didn't they? Why are they still running around?"

Short didn't say a word, obviously still chafing from his outburst, but Sergeant Gunn answered for him. "No such thing as 'sit down for a minute.' There's things to do, and with the Square gone the dogs have a direct line to us." For the first time since she'd seen him, Gunn glanced worriedly at Maple and Azure (and a small look over at Short) before his demeanor fixed itself and he continued "Hundreds, possibly thousands of enemies are steaming right towards us, Miss Twilight. The odds are stacked against us with our backs to the wall. Best hope those reinforcements of yours get here soon."

Twilight gulped, glancing down at an equally anxious Spike before saying "I think we'll see the colonel before I send anymore information to the Princess. He probably knows more about what's going on here."

The baby dragon nodded, eyes still shifting around as he replied "Good idea. I don't think I'd be able to get half the words these ponies are saying spelled out right."

Gunn had met Colonel Eagle Eye once, back when he'd first joined the battalion. An accident with an ammo dump had put the lives of the sergeant's (back then a private) squad at risk. Gunn had, without hesitation, leapt forward to shield a nearby recruit, saving her and two others from harm. Fortunately, he and the rest of the squad came out with only minor wounds, the worst being his broken femur. Afterwards, he'd been awarded an instant promotion to corporal and the Valor in Service medal for bravery at the risk of one's life, all awarded to him by the Colonel himself. It was a big deal, Gunn had been told, as he'd saved the lives of six other ponies, his own sergeant included. That kind of rescue was something to be admired, the Colonel had said.

And now, here they were, with destruction on their doorstep and the city in flames, meeting for the second time under very different circumstances. Gunn meant every word he'd said to Twilight about their chances. If things carried on like this, the dogs wouldn't need to worry about strategy or organization. They'd already smashed the 71st's defensive line to pieces. All they would have to do now was crush them under sheer weight of numbers.

A tactical officer stepped forward, jerking Gunn out of his pessimistic mental ramblings, as Sergeant Conway saluted to her, saying "We have VIPs for Colonel Eye. He requested them immediately."

The blue-uniformed mare glanced over at Twilight before her eyes flitted to examine each trooper, gaze sharp and quick. When her eyes settled on Gunn, he straightened, feeling his spine snap into a line and his neck jerk back as he looked into her icy blue eyes.

"Alright," she said, nodding. "Sergeant Conway, you're dismissed. The rest of you, with me."

The unicorn seemed a little baffled by the turn of events, and frowned as he moved around to block the tactical mare from leaving him alone. "Uh, excuse me-" He glanced at the pins on her collar. "Captain. But I brought this group in. It's thanks to me that they're safe."

"You and six-hundred troopers," said Azure smoothly, her voice carrying no sting to it. Conway and the captain looked sharply at the blue draft horse, but while the unicorn was furious, the mare had a small smirk on her face. "That'll be quite enough, Trooper," the Captain said coolly, and Azure had to suppress a smirk of her own. "Yes ma'am," the big mare said, nodding as if in apology. "My apologies for speaking out of turn."

Conway tried once more to assert his importance. "Ma'am, all due respect, these are my charges. I'm supposed to protect them and bring them to the Colonel."

"Which you have. Magnificent that you were given this job three hours ago, and only left the garrison in the last hour and a half, after we received word that Victor squad was incoming." At this, she turned to Sergeant Gunn, frowning as she asked "Second company?"

Gunn blinked, caught off-guard before remembering that he was essentially now the senior officer of his unit. A saddening thought, but a duty he shared with Lilac, who was currently outside seeing to their wounded. He cleared his throat, replying "Annihilated, ma'am. Our casualties have been nearly one-hundred percent."

The mare nodded gravely. "Then it's as we feared. With Second Company gone and Third withdrawn to the garrison, First Company is the only one actively fighting out there, and we haven't heard from them in an hour." The Captain fixed Conway with an icy glare as the unicorn tried to speak again, but the battle mage simply shut his trap and finally slunk away, duly chastised.

"This way," the Captain repeated, leading them quickly through the command center to the other side of the room. A dozen other tactical officers were reviewing reports and maps, trying to plot out positions quickly and strategize with their swiftly diminishing force. Gunn had heard over the radio that the police ponies fighting alongside the troopers had either been wiped out or broken and run when the line collapsed. In Gunn's opinion, that was the reason –why- the line had broken. Whatever had happened out there, however, it meant only one thing; the dogs could no longer be contained in the Industrial Sector with the battalion whittled down to half strength in the past few hours of fighting. Already, there were reports of fighting in the Residential Sector and City Center, and even the wild rumor that the National Medical Institute had been leveled. Even with the butchering the dogs had been handed, they still had more than enough troops to cause mayhem across the entire city.

At last, they all stood before the stallion they'd traveled through the chaos and carnage outside to get to. Colonel Eye stood tall and impressive before them, his blue uniform taut over his black coat and strong muscles, his equally dark mane cut military short under a blue beret. He stood at a large table, discussing something in a hushed tone with (of all things) a tall green juvenile dragon, standing heads and shoulders above even Gunn and Azure. Gunn knew about Razor, of course, but he glanced back at Twilight and Spike's faces (currently plastered in shock, Spike's a little more excited than the unicorn's) and smirked before turning back as the Captain halted, snapping to attention and declaring "The VIPs, sir. Twilight Sparkle, Spike and their escort."

Gunn and the other troopers also snapped to, determined to look presentable despite the grime, gunpowder streaks and bullet holes adorning their armor and uniforms. But the colonel was at least sensible enough to look past the mess thanks to the battle outside (unlike some officers Gunn had met who demanded perfect neatness even after a two-hour skirmish) and nodded, making his own salute and saying "At ease, gentlecolts." As the troopers let their hooves down, Colonel Eye traced his gaze across them, examining each one briefly before coming to Twilight and Spike. There, his gaze lingered, his expression blanked, but it was obvious to Gunn that he was forcing it to be so. And he knew why. Many ponies had died to keep her safe, and even now the unicorn began to squirm under Colonel Eye's scrutiny.

Then, abruptly, he turned away. "Get us some coffee, Lieutenant," Eye said to Razor, and the dragon nodded, closing two files on the table and leaving silently, exiting the room with a brief hunch to pass through the doorframe. The colonel, meanwhile, simply nodded to Twilight, approaching and holding out his hoof. "Miss Sparkle," he said, his keeping his voice at a neutral tone. "I'm Colonel Eagle Eye, commander of the 71st and all armed forces in the city of Stalliongrad."

"Pleased to meet you, Colonel." Twilight replied, briefly shaking his hoof as she tried to dispel the feeling in her gut that the only reason this stallion was being so nice was that he wanted something from her. Her copy of _'Reading the Mood for Dummies'_ was niggling in the back of her mind, spouting out all sorts of things from body language to tone of voice, and there was definitely some kind of underlying hostility with the colonel. Regardless, Twilight felt the need to keep her mouth closed, rather than attempt to reconcile whatever problem there was, instead simply unbuckling the ill-fitting helmet, letting it fall to the ground. Spike, meanwhile, said nothing. Not even the fact that he'd been ignored could convince him to speak up, for fear of earning the ire of the commander before them. Instead, he simply slipped behind the mage, eyes wide.

The colonel finally broke his gaze from her, moving to stand before the table as he turned to his soldiers. "Gentlecolts, I appreciate the strain and sacrifice it took to bring Miss Sparkle and her assistant here, but it may have all been for naught. We're at a crossroads here, one that isn't looking to have bright horizons down either road. We have reason to believe that this attack," here, he gestured out the window at the smoke roiling from the Industrial Sector stretching out over the horizon. "Is nothing more than a smokescreen for an actual Hegemony attack."

Normally, in most small-time novels or cheap movies, this would be the part where everypony on screen or on paper would gasp in shock, astonished by this new turn of events. In reality, however, the soldiers managed to keep themselves restrained, left to blinking rapidly, dumbfounded. Right on cue, another explosion blossomed out in the city, causing the boom to reverberate through the command center, underlining the Colonel's statement.

Eye seemed to barely notice, instead looking the squad over once more. "I'm sure you're all eager to get patched up before the dogs come rolling over us. Therefore, I relieve you of your assignment to watch over Twilight Sparkle, and order you to get what recovery you can. With any luck, what I dread is coming won't…but until I see proof that we won't be defending these very walls within the hour, I'm not willing to take the risk. I'll need every pony possible to man the battlements."

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><p>(I will now be going to an every other week update pattern as of next Friday, hopefully to avoid incidents like this and still update you guys as often as possible! In the meantime, I hope you all will stew over this latest bombshell! See y'all next week!)<p> 


	8. Chapter 8: At the Gates

(Okay, colts and fillies, here we are once more! Chapter 8! We've come quite a long way, and I just want to thank you all again for being such a dedicated and captive audience, not to mention patient! Anyway, this time, I have something special to announce: that, after some very serious thoughts about where I'm taking this brony fic, I can't leave it where it ends! As such, I have now made plans for a sequel and thoughts of maybe making a trilogy!

Unless, of course, you all find a reason to hate me in the last few chapters.

And now, response time!

**Blumiru:** trust me, you'll get more of everything!

**Nightmare Luna:** hallelujah! I have...nothing to say. Wow, that's a whole lot of praise heaped in there, and I can honestly say I appreciate it. Reviews are like crack to me, the good and the bad, and I'm totally addicted! Thanks!

**Goodnamesaretaken:** Twilight most definitely has a role to play in the coming chapters, and not simply as a sideliner caught in the action, either!

**tombman:** least I got chicken...but I'm glad you found my little ficlet and are now dangling on my hook.

**Random-Reviewer08**: your wish is my command! It's not, really, but it'll happen anyway!

Now, on with the soldier-pony! Forhaard...MARCH!)

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><p><strong>Guardians<strong>

**Chapter 8: At the Gates**

Stalliongrad, Northern Equestria

71st Royal Army Battalion, 1st Company

Forward Positions, assisted by elements from 2nd Company

Golden Ox Hotel, Dining Room, 1st Company Field HQ

"Captain Sanders?"

A white face slipped into his field of view, one filled with curiosity, worry and just a little annoyance. Sanders frowned, looking up from his chart at his second in command, Lieutenant Dandelion. She was from what remained of Second Company, and was senior to any of his First Company officers by at least a few years. As such, he saw it was the right choice to place her as his number two, despite the fact that he knew almost nothing about her, and it was impossible to radio Command for a background check. Instead, he had to make do with what he had.

"Yes, Lieutenant, I'm listening."

Dandelion snorted in obvious disbelief, her matted blonde mane plastered to her head and neck with sweat and grime as she tilted her head to the side, looking at him doubtfully.

"Okay, fine," Sanders admitted, holding his hooves in the air in a 'surrender' gesture. "I may have missed some of the finer parts. Why don't you walk me through the reports one last time? I swear, I'll listen."

The lieutenant watched the dun-colored stallion closely, suspicion and disbelief in her eyes before remembering rank and clearing her throat, turning back to the reports she had in front of her, once more dictating off the numbers on the sheet.

To be honest, Sanders had heard her perfectly well the last few times she'd gone over the massive amount of information. He had feigned ignorance, however, because he needed to hear it again and again to make sure he hadn't been hearing his own pessimistic thoughts in his head. If Dandelion was to be believed, the life of First Company, the battalion and by extension the city, were all about to be ended very shortly.

The news Dandelion had was grim indeed. Pinned with their backs to the water, the unit was surrounded on three sides by thousands of dogs constantly trying to breach their positions and crush them. Fortunately, the buildings leading into the harbor provided excellent cover and forced the mongrels into kill zones, allowing minimal manpower for maximum effect. But the company was running low on ammunition, even for their rifles. All their attached steam wagons were destroyed, and they had to rotate their Section Five detachment mages to allow a few to rest every so often and recover from the use of so much magic. Casualties were mounting and the dogs were always pressing in, cutting off some ponies from their squads and even entire platoons at a time from the main body of the group. Sometimes these small ragtag survivors would fight their way back, but always a few ponies short.

The mare finished her briefing again and looked at Captain Sanders exasperatedly, undoubtedly ready to lecture him on paying attention to his subordinates, only to find the good captain watching her intently. She blanched, bowing her head and waiting for a reprimand. Fortunately for her, Sanders was a former academy lieutenant himself, and understood ignorant superiors quite well.

"Is that all, Lieutenant?"

A silent nod was her reply, obviously not trusting herself to keep professional and not spout out apologies.

"All right, then. Here's my new plan."

With the sweep of a tan leg, the table they were sitting at was suddenly swept clear, documents and bullets flying in every direction as he cleared a space before setting down a hastily drawn map of First Company's positions, launching immediately into his new idea on how to dig in far more effectively, a bewildered Lieutenant Dandelion barely holding on as she tried to process everything at once.

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><p><span>71<span>st Royal Army Battalion Garrison

Command Center

Twilight Sparkle was no military strategist, but even she could tell that things were looking even worse on paper than they were on the ground (a rarity, Sergeant Gunn had informed her humorously). After dismissing the soldiers to be patched up, Colonel Eye had turned to Twilight and Spike, and here they were now, at the master tactical map of the battle at the unicorn mage's request…and she suddenly didn't want to see it.

"As you can see," Colonel Eagle Eye began, standing before the map right now. "We're not having the best of luck. I initially deployed First and Second Company to find and engage the enemy. To our best knowledge, Second Company has taken enormous losses, and First Company has fallen out of contact near the harbor."

The Colonel pointed these areas out, but they were fortunately already marked in red pen, clean and precise. Spike was taking notes on several pieces of dispatch paper, preparing a report to the Princesses from his seat, which happened to be his now removed helmet. His spirits had been raised slightly at seeing that Lieutenant Razor, Eagle Eye's aide, had returned with a tray full of coffee mugs. The green dragon had distributed them to the troopers, then the Colonel, and then offered one to Twilight, who hesitated. Normally, she would have turned the drink down, especially at this time of day, but considering the events that had occurred today, she felt that one might keep her sane, and accepted the caffeinated drink, as did Spike.

A glance over her shoulder revealed that, of the squad, only Sergeant Gunn remained in the room, his coffee mug set on a table and sipping at it occasionally. The dark blue stallion had finally removed his helmet, also setting it on the ground, as well as his gun yoke and saddlebags, though he kept his body armor on. The black ash and mud caking his face remained, but the clear line of where his helmet had been revealed his short clipped black mane once more, and the battledress shirt was plastered to those enormous muscles of his, easily able to rival Big Macintosh's…

Twilight snapped her head back around, desperate to bring her attention back to matters at hand. This was a war zone, as archaic as the term was, and she needed to get this information to the Princesses! Well, Spike needed to, but she figured it would be bad appearances to not know about her own message.

Fortunately, the exchange only lasted seconds, and Colonel Eye was just moving on to the next part of the map, one dangerously close to the garrison.

"I deployed Third Company as our defensive bulwark to keep the way into the garrison and City Center open to retreating units, and Fourth to provide air support throughout the city with Sixth on long range support. Fifth Company was, obviously, split up to support the three on the line. Afterwards-"

"Woah! Hang on!" proclaimed Spike, scribbling furiously before pausing and asking "How do you spell 'bulwark?'"

* * *

><p><em>He finally reached her, laying there on the snow-covered yellow grass, ducking as a volley of rounds whizzed over his head. He leaned down, his muzzle nudging her side to see if she was alive still. His nose came away bloody, and he felt his lungs sting as he took a sharp inhale of breath from the cold air.<em>

"_Trooper down!" he heard himself yell, yet he could not remember giving his brain the order to say it. "I need a medic over here!"_

_ His neck strained as he slowly pushed her onto her uninjured side, hearing her grunt of pain. Three neat, bloody holes were punched along the mare's ribs, and he felt his heart sink before he quickly scampered to her head, a hoof at her jaw and the other pushing her goggles up. Her eyes squinted open, looking up at the stallion above her, and he sighed as he saw she was still conscious, his breath misting the cold air as he said "Sandy…hang on. I'll get you outta here. Where's that medic?"_

_ His head snapped around, glancing at the battlefield around him. This was only supposed to be a routine patrol, dangit. How could things get bucked up so fast? Overhead, a griffon flew by, the carbine sputtering in its hands before a shell from an Equestrian recoilless rifle vaporized the flying creature. He covered Sandy as he felt debris and pieces of flesh and bone bounce off his neck and body armor. They were getting out. No matter what._

* * *

><p>The coffee sucked. But Short knew that was how it went in the Army. Bad, bitter, watery coffee was a staple of service, a standard that was proudly adorned and the last thing a soldier would even think of correcting. Currently, his mug was resting on the table before him, and he'd lean forward every few minutes and take another gulp, grateful for the caffeine to keep him awake. Coffee was a big thing in the Stop family, especially given the long hours and early days they all had in their professional lives.<p>

The mess hall was, surprisingly, not as empty as Short thought it would be. Recovering wounded, medical ponies on break, logistics personnel with bags under their eyes, even a few other troopers like him were all sitting around the room, trying to reconnect with the lives they'd been living scarcely a day ago. Short had volunteered for every mission offered since he'd come to Stalliongrad, seventeen of them in four years, and he'd seen more death and destruction in these last few hours than in all of that time. The memories of those cold, dark hills still surfaced time and time again.

He blew across the top of his coffee, feeling the frown on his brows tugging at his face. He felt exhausted, his sleep deprivation not helping out his battle fatigue, and he could feel the negative thought stumbling around in his mind. He'd already snapped at Twilight over a small thing, who knew what he'd do next?

Like maybe not talk to her? Dangit. He had to apologize, he reasoned as he took another sip, feeling the aches in his neck. The things he'd said and the way he'd seen her hurt, he knew he'd screwed up. Now he had to fix it, one way or another. He turned his attention to the corner as the tape player somepony had set up began turning out a scratchy but still discernable beat. Something from Zebrabwe he'd heard called samba. It had a slow beat to it, unlike the other songs he'd heard, and wondered idly if it was some zebra's mix tape.

"Hey, soldier. Mind if I share the table?"

Short had to swallow hard to prevent himself from spitting out the mouthful as the object of his thoughts seemingly materialized out of nowhere at his flank, choking for a second before he turned to her, coughing as she watched him, a mixture of humor and worry on her face.

"What?" he gasped, trying to buy himself some time to recover as he felt the air bubbles slide down his throat. Twilight cocked her head to the side, an eyebrow raised. "An acquaintance of mine told me that no one licks alone. Obviously, you're drinking and not hitting the salt, but I'm hoping the rule still applies."

Rubbing his throat with a hoof, Short nodded, jerking his head to the table. "Sure."

The unicorn mare stepped up, glancing around for a stool. When none proved to be nearby, she decided to simply stand at the table like Short, smiling a little awkwardly. "Well, you're talking to me, that's something at least."

"Yeah… Short replied, reasoning that his voice didn't sound like it had been scratched with –too- much sandpaper and clearing his throat. "Yeah. It is."

The silence stretched between the two of them for a few minutes, a strange little divide that had broken the quick friendship they had been building a mere hour ago. Now, neither could meet the other's eyes, glancing at everything but the pony across the table. The low murmur of conversation in the background and the slow, soothing beat of the samba filled the gap, giving them ample fodder to concentrate on as a distraction. Short was suddenly incredibly fixated with the cigar marks on the table, while Twilight glanced at a couple a few tables over, an exhausted looking Pegasus sitting next to a zebra, the latter dressed in the battledress of a trooper and comforting the former, obviously an aviator. Just as she contemplated stepping over to speak to them, the Pegasus smiled up at the zebra before leaning over, and the unicorn's eyes went wide as she turned back to Short, a small tinge of red on her cheeks.

"So…still in your gear, I see. Everypony else is unloading in the barracks."

Indeed, Short (like his sergeant in the Command Center) still wore his battledress and armor, having removed his gun yoke, saddlebags and helmet, all three at his hooves under the table. The layer of grime in his coat was still present as well, turning him from grey to a sickly mottled black-and-white color, like coal left on the fire for a few minutes.

He shrugged, eyes moving from his coffee to hers for a second before he leaned in, sipping his drink again. "Didn't feel like taking it off. If we get stormed, it'll be right back on anyway. Maple and Azure can go roll in the hay all they like, I've got nothing to be clean for."

The mage blinked, straightening her neck as the names registered in her mind. "Wait, what? Those two? They're -involved-? But-"

"Didn't see it, did you?" Short smiled knowingly. "Took me months to figure out. Never figured Azure would be one for the brainiac type, but it's not like Maple's a complete nerd, at least."

Twilight's jaw almost literally dropped, the shock evident on her face as she attempted to process the information running through her mind. Azure, the big strong draft mare, and Maple, the scrawny and nervous kid…were _intimate_? It wasn't possible! That, of course, led to other thoughts, images about just what the couple might be up to with such limited time. Suddenly, the soft music in the background became her worst enemy, like something out of one of her trashy romance novels, and she felt the heat in her cheeks rise…

At least, that's what she thought until she heard Short's guffaws and looked up, realizing she'd been tricked! Outfoxed by a single thought! She gawked at him, eyebrows raised and blush gone before she grinned and chuckled. "You idiot!"

"I gotcha!" Short quipped, rising onto his rear hooves and doing a small dance of celebration, drawing out his victory for all to see, minute as it was. Fortunately, they didn't get much more than a few glances, some raised eyebrows and mutterings about 'too much caffeine.' Finally, however, they both had to come down from their humor high, small smiles still evident on their muzzles as they quieted down, listening to the tape play another song, this one a little more upbeat.

"Thought you were prepping the note to the Princesses?" Short finally asked, taking another sip of coffee. Twilight nodded in agreement, suddenly feeling a light rumble to her stomach and remembered she hadn't eaten since she'd gotten off the train, what felt like years ago instead of earlier this day.

"I'm letting Spike take care of it. I realized halfway through his initial setup that it would be a lot of note taking and very little of me actually writing a letter. So, I asked the Colonel if I could get something to eat. Speaking of which…"

Ten minutes, a glass of water and one corn on wheat sandwich later, Short finally mustered up the courage to say "Hey, listen. About what I said earlier. I just kinda snapped. Y'know, the pressure of the attack, and the lack of sleep last night."

Fortunately, Twilight accepted it with no undue haste. "Water under the bridge now, trust me. All forgiven. It's just good to have somepony around who understands."

Abruptly, Short's demeanor shifted from morose to wicked, a smirk quickly on his muzzle and a glint in his eye. Twilight was almost shocked by the appearance of a second mood swing, but quickly felt mounting suspicions as she traced back her wording. She couldn't think of anything she'd said to enact that kind of reaction.

Fortunately, Short had the habit of cutting straight to the chase, alleviating her worries…only to replace them with a whole new set. "Speaking of having someone…I notice you've been a little sweet on Sergeant Gunn."

Oh, he was joking again. She smiled, chuckling as she shook her head and said "Ha ha, very funny. But it's too soon to use that joke again."

But Short's smirk dropped, his own head shaking as he replied "No, I'm serious. You've been doing little things here and there, but it's got him a bit flustered, confused. You mean to tell me you're not –trying- to flirt with him?"

"What? No! I just met him a few hours ago! We've talked a bit, nothing more!"

"Sometimes that's all it takes. Little word of warning, though…" Short glanced around, frowning before saying, under his breath "If you're not actually interested, watch your wording in the future. Gunn's had a…very rocky past."

"Rocky?"

"Don't tell him I told you about this, but the Sarge has been in the battalion for near on ten years. He's seen quite a few friends die before him, and he takes it hard. The troopers under his command are his responsibility, almost like they were his foals. Soldiers die in war, sure, but Gunn sees it as a failure on his part."

Twilight bit her lip, glancing at the radio only out of partial interest as it switched songs on the tape once more, then looked back, feeling a little guilt. She –had- known what she'd said could be misconstrued as trying to get intimate when she was simply being nice, and now she realized just how emotionally distraught the sergeant might be.

"So…you think that's how he sees it?"

Short shrugged, wiping at his brow absently, his leg coming away with more grime. "I'm not sure. He's a hard stallion to read. Just be careful, that's all. I know how hard it is to be the pony that loses something like that."

"You mean you and baseball?"

Short flinched, his gaze snapping up to Twilight once more, all hard angles and accusatory staring. She, however, stood rock steady against the emotional onslaught of his stare, all the anger and bitterness she had detected earlier back once more in full force. She'd thought over what he'd said at the train station and how he'd avoided her question. He'd been proud to speak of his family and the sport, but the problem itself lay not in the act or tradition itself, but in –himself-. His anger at himself for something to do with it. She was, in essence, guessing with that last comment, but it seemed to have gotten the effect she was looking for. Not only did she need to take him off topic (thank Celestia for that, at least) she also wanted to find out if some of his bitterness may lay in his distant past as well as recent.

They were quiet for a few minutes more, just glaring at each other across the table, listening to the buzz of background noise. Short, his eyes burning full of an accusatory anger that was boiling from some previously undiscussed well of remorse, and Twilight, her expression calm and collected, though that was far calmer than the bundle of nerves she was inside. Had she said too much? Was he finally going to say he never wanted to see her again? This conversation had been awkward from the start, but she had pushed it in this direction.

Finally, Short opened his mouth, about to speak-

When the PA system blared with Colonel Eye's voice. _"All units to battlestations! Repeat, all units to battlestations! Hostiles sighted at the perimeter! This is not a drill! All units, report to your stations at once! Both medical shifts are hereby on active duty, and all soldiers capable of holding a rifle are to get to the trenches immediately!"_

Short was immediately up, flipping his helmet onto his head and reaching up, tightening the hoof-friendly chin strap before heaving his saddlebags over his back, the gun yoke now firmly in position. He glared over at Twilight as the mess hall's other occupants streamed past them, the pitch of activity now changed as they blew out the door.

"This isn't over. You've dug up a can of worms, Twilight."

With that, Short pulled up his face mask, sliding the goggles down in the same motion, turning him into just another trooper out there, fighting for his nation…and his life.

* * *

><p>"<em>You've got to get out of here."<em>

_She seemed adamant on that fact, resisting all his attempts to help her up, haul her away from this brief border spat. He never should have requested to transfer Sandy into his squad, was a complete idiot about that fact. Now, here they were, in this situation._

_He was pulling her away over his shoulders now, in an assisted carry as he glanced around. "Medic!" he called, even though he knew there wasn't one coming. "Sarge?" he called out, frowning as he attempted to get his head on straight and find his bearings. They were separated, that much was a fact, but how far were they from friendly lines?_

_Another griffon flew overhead, then another, and another, all three heading southeast, back towards the Royal Army outpost._

_Buck. How many had they lost here? And where would it go now? Actual war, or just swept under the rug like so many other incidents like this? The Colonel was out of his mind for letting the Mayor tell him what to do…_

_Abruptly, something dropped, right in front of him, clattering off the rocks. His eyes widened behind his goggles. "Grenade!" he yelled out of reflex, dropping to the ground and throwing his hooves over his neck. Suddenly, however, Sandy's weight left his shoulders, and it took him a horrible, agonizingly long second to figure out what that meant. He spun around, just in time to see the wounded mare throw herself –right onto the grenade-._

"_SANDY, NO!" he yelled, but too late. The explosive detonated, mere meters from him. Had Sandy not done what she did, the blast would have killed them both. As it happened, the mare was thrown into the air, crashing back down to the ground a few feet away._

"_Sandy!" he cried, galloping up and tearing his face mask off, shoving the barrel of his rifle aside as he rolled her over again to see her wounds. This time, however, he knew she wouldn't make it. Her vest, already weakened by the bullet holes, had been ripped to shreds over her belly, exposing the flesh beneath. It wasn't pretty._

_But she was still alive. Barely. He turned her face towards him, watching those eyes open one last time._

"_Sandy…" he said, though it was quieter this time, more of a plea than a call to her. But it was a plea that went unheard as she weakly shook him off, her breath coming in wet, bloody gasps as what was left of her heart and lungs tried to keep her going._

"_You need to…get out of here. You're…the last one of the squad left. Go find the lieutenant, tell him…tell him what happened here."_

_She coughed, spraying blood over her jaw, and though he leaned forward to help her, a hoof placed on his chest stopped him, not through physical strength, for hers was gone, but through the unspoken request: let me die with some dignity._

_She looked up at him, one last time, and he could see himself reflected in her eyes._

"_You need to live, Lock. You need to…live…"_

* * *

><p>"Sergeant?"<p>

Gunn's head jerked up, knocking into the handle of his coffee, spilling it on the floor.

"Ah, manure!" the sergeant cursed, debating whether to clean it up or pull his equipment on, but a hoof on the shoulder made him look up at Eagle Eye, the pony who'd awoken him.

"Yessir. What can I do for you?"

"You alright?" asked the senior officer, frowning. "You kind of phased out on me."

Gunn nodded, slowly, trying to keep his grips with reality intact. "Yessir. Just being haunted by some ghosts today, is all."

The Colonel nodded, his hoof patting Gunn's shoulder briefly before coming down. "I understand. Get to your squad, I'll clean up the coffee."

"Thank you, sir," Gunn replied, snapping a salute before slamming his helmet down over his head, turning and cantering down the hallway.

Time to leave the past behind and live in the present. There were troopers counting on him.

* * *

><p>(Once more, thank you all for coming, and I hope the announcement of the sequel has left you in high spirits! Until next time, this is War Horse!)<p> 


	9. Chapter 9: In the Trenches

(Woah, woah, woah there people! I may have been a little overdramatic last chapter, but I never actually said it was over, did I? Until you see the epilogue *and there will be one* this story is going full steam. I -do- predict only about four or five more chapters, but we're rolling the ball here! In light of this mass of confusion, I didn't feel right slipping into a biweekly update schedule, so I'll be reverting back to my weekly writings just so you can all enjoy the solderpony that much more!

And now, responses!

**Random-Reviewer08:** that's good, because I was actually warned the OC ponies don't go over well with the brony fanbase, but it's good to see that I have support!

**Nightmare Luna:** thanks for the input on the flashbacks. I was just wondering if I should stop them or not.

**DoctorWhooves:** that's a lot of questions. 1: I'll keep going, don't worry. 2: Maybe. Or maybe not. 3: See previous answer ;) And you're right, the rule books do seem to get tossed out alot for those two subjects.

**The Socialist:** well, I'll certainly take your ideas in mind, but this story already has itself an ending. You socialist pig. :D

ATTEN-HUT! Let the fic resume!)

* * *

><p><strong>Guardians<strong>

**Chapter 9: In the Trenches**

Stalliongrad, Northern Equestria

71st Royal Army Battalion, 3rd Company

Battalion Garrison, Defensive Trenchworks

They were coming. The third, and last, forward outpost had just pulled out, and they were barely a block away. All of the posts were in different locations in an arc around the garrison, each an extra mile from the fortress, and with this last one, the dogs would be right on top of them. Major Zo Di'ac snorted, watching her breath mist up once more in the cold air. The snowfall was coming down heavily, blanketing everything in a layer of white powder that, at the very least, hid the trenchworks marginally.

While the garrison was a very dominating fortress, it's main flaw was the lack of actual defenses. Machine gun towers were at each corner, and heavy artillery boomed from inside its walls, as well as the service pad, but there was little else. As such, the Colonel had ordered several rows of trenches dug in a circle around the garrison with a single road for friendly hoof and vehicular traffic. The trenches themselves were formidable, given more time and concentration than the defenses in Steed Square. Each trench was topped by sandbags, and the first two rows had several strings of barbed wire strung out in front of them. Bunkers holding machine guns and recoilless rifles were hidden among the fortifications, and each trench held a multitude of troopers as well as a few mortar pits in them. But was it enough? Final count told that all the garrison's able-bodied defenders amounted to about three-hundred and fifty soldiers at last count, and more than half of those were troopers. The rest were a mix of exhausted Pegasi, wagon drivers and unequipped artillery troopers and other auxiliaries, most of whom were unable to participate in the grueling trench battle that was to come. The reports from the outposts told of at least a thousand dogs incoming, probably more.

The six battlewagons had spread out in front of the garrison's main gates, their cannons primed and aimed out into the still intact neighborhoods around the garrison. Steamwagons were positioned at the other two gates on the sides, their machine guns not as lethal but certainly still formidable. Troopers and supply runners streamed in and out of the gates behind the wagons, delivering supplies and more fighters to the trenches, where their blue helmets helped them fit against the white and gray background. She could see the troopers moving through the fortifications, their heads low and their steel caps bobbing, a stream of flesh that was supposed to hold back the juggernaut coming at them. The garrison's field engineers had already laid a field of mines out behind the trenches, at great risk to dogs that had run ahead, eager to get to the slaughter early.

Di'ac glanced behind her at the mortar crew, setting up in the pit they occupied. The portable tubes hadn't been broken out for fear of impeding speed, but now that they literally had nowhere to go the Colonel had ordered them handed out like candy, and they had thousands of shells ready to load and drop on the enemy. She glanced down at the aged ordnance, noting their faded labels, yet the way each still shined underneath the dull appearance of age.

'_Old they may be, but their use has not faded to we,'_ she thought to herself, remembering that though Equestrian weapons technology was far behind Hegemonic arms, they had still managed to hold the enemy this long with these odds. That, in itself, was something worth celebrating. They would stand their ground and fight until the very end to keep the main bulk of the enemy out of City Center, where the already feeble remnants of the police force were ready to break under the strain that the raids into the area was causing. The smoke on the horizon told of a destroyed police precinct, though their headquarters in the Center remained intact. A force without a leader was simply a rabble, however.

The radio pack Drab had brought crackled to life, and the Colonel's voice said _"Major Di'ac, report."_

She glanced at Drab before she leaned down, depressing the chin pad with her jaw, squinting as she replied. "Colonel, I am here."

_ "Fourth Company's reporting that the forward elements of the dog force should be visible any minute now. Have you got all the personnel needed?"_

Needed, no. Available, yes. Di'ac glanced back, seeing a few troopers finally scramble into the trenches, the giant gates behind the battlewagons finally sliding shut on their steam-powered mechanisms, closing with an ominous thudding sound as the two plates of iron locked together.

"I have all we are. Here's hoping we live long enough to see the stars. Di'ac out."

She turned back, sliding her helmet back on before righting her rifle-yoke.

Time to command. She turned, barking out orders left and right, guiding troopers first one way, and then another, snapping at a mortar crew when the loader pony dropped a shell on accident, scrambling to grab the bit-handle.

Time for one last march.

71st Royal Army Battalion

Garrison Command Center

Colonel Eagle Eye knew their reckoning was coming. He knew that in the next hour, whether they would live or die would be decided, here and now. He squared his jaw as he looked out towards the trenchworks beyond the garrison walls, able to view all from his window. For the first time since the fighting had started, the artillery was silent, their crews taking a brief rest before the real fight, their guns being recalibrated and the last few dozen shells hauled out and prepared for the heavy fighting ahead, for it was risk everything or lose everything at this point. Pegasi flapped in and out of his sight, all the ponies he could muster up that weren't immobile. He'd ordered them put on stimulants, knowing full well that any more strain would kill several from exhaustive collapse and extreme cardiac arrest. He didn't care at the moment, for he'd made up his mind. If the garrison was overrun and the only way to survive was to run, he would stay where he was and order everypony else to retreat to City Center and relocate to the police HQ. He'd relieve himself of command and pass it to Major Di'ac. She was a more experienced field commander than him anyway, and knew how to make the hard choices without lamenting over them later like he was now.

The blood of dozens of ponies was spilled over his hooves, and gallons more were going to be poured on them. But he'd made his choice, his chance for redemption. He wore combat armor, tight-fitting and uncomfortable in the years since he'd zipped a suit on, and had grabbed a rifle-yoke as well. He'd sell his life dearly, for it was no noble death for a soldier to simply give himself to the end. He'd fight as hard as his troopers had done since the attack began. They'd held their ground, despite their lack of actual battle experience, and they'd done him proud.

The clatter of hooves resounded behind him, and he turned, peering back to spot Twilight dashing into the room, paying no attention to the now-one-eyed guard at the door who tried to stop her. Spike was hot on her heels, for once without the look of exuberance and joy as he glanced over at Razor, currently bent over a map and writing calculations on a notepad. He had also ordered Razor to line up the next deployment and present his charts to the Major if it came to that.

As Twilight trotted over, a look of twisting anxiety on her face, Eye turned to her, finally taking his gaze off the coming battle. Or, given the situation, the coming graveyard seemed far more apt.

"Miss Sparkle. Spike. What can I do for you two?" If it were up to him, he'd have them both air-lifted out, but he possessed no air chariots, and he doubted there was a spell to make unicorns fly.

"Has the attack started yet?" the mage queried, taking up position next to the Colonel to overlook the field, her eyes peering intently. Eagle shook his head, turning back to the glass. "My forward scouts are retreating with the dogs on their heels. It'll begin soon enough."

A pause stretched between the two (three, Eye reminded himself. Spike was right next to Twilight) as they watched the battalion dig in. What was left of it, anyway. The force below was a mixture of full-time soldiers, reservists and a few civilian volunteers who had been given a crash course in equipment handling and sent out there. The Colonel wasn't happy about the prospect of having trigger-happy civilian ponies out in the trenches, but a jaw that could bite a trigger could still be used, and he accepted those who stepped forward.

"Is there anything I can do?" the purple unicorn finally asked, her eyes still fixed straight ahead. "Anything to help?"

Eagle turned to her, frowning. "You sent the message with the updated sitrep?"

"Yes sir."

"Any reply?"

"No."

"Then I'm afraid that the most you could possibly do at this point is either get down into those trenches yourself or get the hay out of the city."

Five Minutes Later

The Garrison's Armory

The unicorn-made helmet fit her more comfortably, thanks to the hole drilled in the top for her horn. It set low over her brow, and though she was unused to feeling the blue steel on her head, she knew that going back out there without it would be a death sentence. The armor was a little snug on her as well, though she supposed it was because they didn't have time to find her exact size.

"Alright, little filly," said the quartermaster, a gruff, older mare with a patch over one eye and a nasty scar across her face, her yellow flank decorated by a small treasure chest Cutie Mark. "You're all suited up. Armor, helmet, extra vittles, goggles. You want a gun-yoke? Most mages take them as backup."

Her automatic response, and the right one to her, would be to turn it down. Twilight didn't want to kill anything or anypony. But then, what was she doing down here, playing dress-up and valiant heroine in this get-up? If she wasn't going to kill an obvious enemy to save Equestria, what kind of pony was she?

She looked up, nodding quietly. The quartermaster, a sergeant major from the insignia on her vest, nodded back understandingly, turning to the weapons rack and selecting a seemingly random yoke from the dozens of others.

"At least you get to go fight," said a voice from her side, which a quick glance would reveal showed came from Spike, looking grumpy as always. "I have to stay behind and help out in the command center." Twilight knew the pouting baby dragon routine was just an act, a taste of normality in this otherwise alien day, and she appreciated it, knowing just how worried for her he was.

"Spike," she replied condescendingly, keeping the act going. "You know they don't have armor in your size, and you can't even handle any of the weapons. What're you gonna do, launch yourself out of a mortar?"

"Could work," Spike replied, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "Dragon artillery. Let 'em get a taste of these!" He flexed his biceps menacingly, and it took Twilight a second to realize he wasn't joking.

Before she could reply, however, the sergeant major was back, and she drawled "Oh, Ah don't know about all that. Why don't Ah just stick you in a bucket and hang you from Miss Sparkle's vest here?"

And just like that, Spike's faked enthusiasm turned into real wariness. "Actually," he said, slowly backing towards the door as he stared at the quartermaster with wide eyes. "Razor –was- saying something about needing some help…with…stuff…Bye Twi', goodluck!" And with a scramble of movement, the little purple dragon was out of the room.

The violet prodigy chuckled as she watched her dear assistant leave, feeling a little sorrow that she may not see him again. She had no doubt that Spike was out of danger, not so long as Colonel Eye was there to watch him. The fact that she was sticking her neck out into the trenches, however, meant he might be the one facing loss instead.

"Ah know that look," said the quartermaster, stepping around and slipping the gun-yoke over Twilight's neck, aligning the rifle on its gimble and pulling the belt of ammunition out of the can strapped to the other side, speaking between clenched jaws. "That's the look one has when they're not sure they'll come back."

Twilight glanced over at the other mare, only slightly surprised. She supposed it might be obvious, as she hadn't been trying to conceal her thoughts very well. Still, maybe a discussion with a soldier who'd seen it all might help out.

"Tell me, Sergeant…uh…"

"Marigold," the quartermaster replied, startling the mage for a second. "Ah know, not the most intimidating of names, but that's what happens. Anyway, Ah know just how you look, darlin', because I looked just like that every time I shipped out. Ah always made sure there was a mirror nearby when Ah said goodbye to my foals, and as soon as they were gone Ah looked at myself, and Ah always had the same expression."

With a clean snap, the rifle took the belt, allowing it to drape across the front of Twilight's vest, through a few loops designed specifically for that very function. Marigold straightened up, turning the unicorn around and tightening a few straps here and there, making sure the mage was ready to go.

"Just remember, Sparkle. You'll be fighting for your country out there. Win or lose, live or die, you'll do all your loved ones proud. Ah know you're not a real soldier, but from what Ah hear you've got the two things needed above all else, and you've got 'em in spades; guts and luck. Lots of both. Especially the latter, that's the important one."

Twilight nodded, turning back to Marigold and trying her best at a salute. It earned her a chuckle from the one-eyed Southern mare, who turned the unicorn back around, shoving her a bit. "Work on that. You're still a bit stiff, Ah can tell. Now go out there and kick some flank!"

Garrison Trenchworks

Trench 1-A

Short should have known that he'd get put out on the front line, but he hadn't expected to literally be right in the very first trench, the first one to be hit when the dogs attacked. Still, he had no complaints to be voiced, and the other troopers huddling with him in the muddy slush that was a result of the snowfall would have hushed him quiet again.

The dogs could be heard, out in the distance, howling and barking and firing wildly as they came closer and closer, obviously thirsting for equestrian blood. Smoke boiled away in the distance, and the heavy artillery had finally opened up once more in the garrison's walls, pounding the canine advance remorselessly. But, without Pegasi spotters and sophisticated adjustments, the mortars had neither the targets nor the range to do the same. Not yet.

He glanced around at his squad. Maple, amazingly, wasn't his twitchy, jittery self, instead remaining steady and staring at the ground, his eyes blank. Short was worried for the colt, worried about the trauma that may have been inflicted on him these past few hours, but there was nothing he could do now. Azure was still the rock-steady pillar of strength the squad relied on…the complete squad, anyway. She peered over the lip fearlessly, the big guns on her back primed and ready to fire. Her blue coat was stained with mud, just like everypony else, but on her it seemed more tragic, for some reason, blotting out the blue star of her Cutie Mark.

And Sergeant Gunn. Still solid and dependable, up on the edge as well, glaring out into what would become a charnel killing ground. Tactics like this hadn't been used for centuries in warfare, but it was all they had, and they all bucked up to them, Sergeant Lock Gunn even more than everyone else. Whereas everypony else was afraid of war, Gunn embraced it, let himself sink into the violence and mayhem and become a killing machine in the midst of the chaos. Short had seen it more than two-dozen times before today, and he had no doubt that if anyone would come out of this alive, it would be the sergeant.

Abruptly, however, his ears were drawn to the squishing of moving hooves, the grumble of discontented troopers forced to move aside, and…

"Excuse me! Oh, excuse me please, coming through!"

Twilight?

Sergeant Lock Gunn had lived through many events in his life. He was the proud eldest of two little brothers, Stock and Barrel. He'd served for over a decade in the Royal Equestrian Army, survived over a dozen battles and killed who knew how many enemies of Equestria. He'd lived in the hills for weeks on end, in the cold and bitter winds that threatened to skin an unwary man, and lived a life more fulfilling than any other pony could. He thought he'd seen and done it all.

But when a former VIP and good acquaintance suddenly began pardoning her way through a muddy trench, her battledress and armor completely clean and her hooves stepping carefully (if absently) over puddles, his mind went blank.

Twilight was here, in the front trenches. She didn't belong here! Quickly, he turned, pushing his way through the troopers around him without a single word. Once the wave became apparent, they simply began parting before him, letting him get through with no hassle. Certainly, he was going faster than Twilight, and he reached her in seconds, whereas she'd needed a minute to get as far as she had. Which wasn't far at all. She was so out of her element, excusing herself and cautiously moving around troopers in the tight confines of the trench, it was almost painful to watch. Gunn knew he had to get her out of here, regardless of what she'd done earlier. She wasn't a soldier, and this was more than a brief scrap.

Finally, he reached her, standing directly in her path. Twilight, on the other hand, didn't seem to recognize him at first, for she muttered "Excuse me," before her helmeted head smacked into his chest, causing her purple rump to land in a puddle. She glared up, angrily, before recognizing the blue horse and blinking in surprise. "Sergeant Gunn. Oh, uh…sorry about that."

"You've got a problem," Gunn remarked, shaking his head slightly as she struggled to rise again. "Miss Twilight, you do realize that we're about to come under attack?"

"Of course!" she replied as she finally righted herself, and trace of a smile gone from her expression as her eyes hardened. "Why do you think I'm out here? Just to play dress-up and drink tea?" Gunn blinked in surprise at the steel in her words, deciding to tread carefully in the future. He may have underestimated her, it seemed.

"Look, the dogs are going to pour over us, and it's too late to send you back now."

"I can handle myself, Gunn."

"You're sure? Because-"

What he'd been about to say, however, died on the tip of his tongue as, with a high-pitched shriek, a white flare flew high overhead, soaring into the sky and illuminating the dark ground. Mere seconds later, a blue flare shot up from further back in the city, a spot of color against the gray, smoky sky.

"What are those?" Twilight asked, her voice low as all the troopers' eyes fixed themselves to the falling balls of light.

"Signal flares," Gunn replied, his voice full of confusion. "They haven't been used in war for decades. Even we phased them out after the wireless was invented. They usually-"

Once more, however, he was cut off as a great chorus of howls, shrieks and barks rang out through the city streets, bounding and echoing off the walls and creating ghosts from all directions. Troopers swiveled around, rifles at the ready, to meet a threat that turned out to not be there. After a few seconds, it became apparent that the threat was coming from forwards, and that-

"SCOUTS SIGHTED!" yelled a spotter from further down the line, pulling away from his tripod-mounted sighting scope. "COUNT AT LEAST ONE HUNDRED HOSTILES IN PURSUIT!"

"They usually signal a charge…" Gunn finally finished, his heart leaping up into his throat as he felt adrenaline shoot through his veins.

Like it or not, ready or not, the Royal Army had been found by the dogs.

* * *

><p>(Again, sorry for all the confusion, see you all next week!)<p> 


	10. Chapter 10: Under Fire

(What's that? Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it's the next chapter of Guardians!

Okay, fillies and gentlecolts. I have come to you today, one day early, simply because, to put it bluntly, I won't have time tomorrow to post this next chapter. Fortunately, you wanted action, and that's exactly what you're going to get for at least the next two or three chapters! That's right, it's a nonstop rollarcoaster ride all the way until the end of our tragic tale! Aren't you all excited?

And now, RESPONSES!

**Nightmare Luna:** you always do have something nice to say. Shucks, yer makin' me blush!

**Blumiru:** Yes, it does. I've been awaiting this moment for 10,000 years! Wait...no, that's...wrong speech again. Sorry!

**Random-Reviwer08:** Fortunately, it won't be the end of the story or the series!

**The Socialist:** I always do take consideration for good ideas. Yours will definitely go up on the board, maybe for the next story in the Guardians series...

Forward, FIC!

* * *

><p><strong>Guardians<strong>

**Chapter 10: Under Fire**

Radio Conversation Log

Originating from over Blind Horse Bluff, North-western Equestria

"_Battleaxe, this is Katana Six-One. Just passed the last marker. Estimated time to arrival at Stalliongrad is one hour."_

"_Confirm, Six-One. Return to battle position. All units, prepare for aerial rotation, come to heading one-one-six. All units confirm."_

"_This is Longsword Element, we confirm."_

"_Falchion here. All units ready."_

"_Katana here. Just waiting for Six-One."_

"_Alright. All units, rotate. Course change, One-one-six."_

"_Battleaxe, Scabbard. Radio call from Canterlot. They've reestablished contact with the 71__st__, the situation's getting bad down there. Princess Luna is asking what's taking so long."_

"_You tell that prissy pony that we had to fly all the way from the north coast to get this far! She should be grateful we're doing this at all!"_

"_Uh, yes ma'am. I'll pass the information."_

"_They wanted help from the Matriarchy, they'll just have to wait for us to get there."_

* * *

><p><span>Stalliongrad, Northern Equestria<span>

71st Royal Army Battalion, 3rd Company

Battalion Garrison, Defensive Trenchworks

Trench 1-A, Section 16

"HERE THEY COME!" rolled across the trenches, various troopers rushing to their stations, eager to finally have the tension and waiting broken but at the same time also dreading the slaughter that was to come. Rifles were cocked, machine guns steadied and mortars prepared, the crews standing ready with a chain of shells to drop. Gunn quickly nudged Twilight forward, pushing through the commotion of troopers hurrying to mount the firing step.

"If you're going to go through with this," he said over the commotion "You may as well get to your station!"

She said nothing, though this was from a lack of oxygen in her lungs as another trooper's rifle had accidentally knocked the air out of her. She allowed herself to be carried on, however, until Gunn dropped her unceremoniously onto the ground, her face splashing into a pile of muddy slush as the sergeant turned to regard the line. No one had started firing yet, but the reason didn't come to Twilight until she rose herself and spotted the dogs, still running straight at them. From earlier reports, this was nothing more than a probe, something to find the Equestrian defensive positions. Fortunately, the platoon lieutenants were relaying Major Di'ac's orders, calling out "STEADY!" every few minutes, an order to keep the high-strung troopers in line.

With a short, deep boom, one of the first dogs trod on a landmine, the explosive detonating beneath his paw and blasting him and several of his companions nearby into oblivion. Those taken by the shrapnel were discarded in bloody, ragged lumps. The edge of the minefield was a full four-hundred meters away, a little more than a quarter of a mile from the front trench. A rifle-yoke had the potential to hit targets at three-hundred meters, but only the remote chance. It was more advisable to engage at one-hundred and fifty, especially given the number of rounds needed to put the dogs down.

Behind the troopers, the mortars opened up, thunking their shells into the air. Royal Army pattern mortars could easily launch to a half a mile away, and the dogs charging towards the trenches were so close that the distance could be eyeballed. The high-explosive shells began bursting behind the edge of the minefield, wreaking horrendous casualties on the dogs not already killed by the mines, and yet the survivors still came on, despite the number they lost every second to the explosives.

Short growled, knowing exactly what the enemy was doing. By sending in a simple tenth of their force, the canine attack force could not only clear the way of any traps, but they could also expose Royal Army positions. Cruel tactics, to be sure, but it looked to be working, as twenty dogs had managed to evade death long enough to reach two-hundred meters, almost within effective rifle range. "Rifles ready!" barked a nearby lieutenant, and dozens of rifles along the main trench were cocked, their users peering down the sights. Twilight finally stumbled to her hooves, shaking her head and coughing as she glanced out at the charging enemy, quickly pulling her own rifle up clumsily. Short sighed, releasing his bit trigger and stepping over.

"Hey, Twilight?"

The mage didn't take her eyes off the enemy ahead, squaring herself into what she undoubtedly thought was an intimidating pose. "Yeah, Short?"

The stallion leaned forward, nudging a switch with his muzzle. "Your rifle works a hay of a lot better when the safety's off."

The mage blushed darkly in embarrassment, glancing at Short as the trooper gave her a small smile, retaking his position and lifting his rifle again, squinting down the sights.

"STEADY!" yelled the lieutenant as the dogs passed the one-eighty mark.

"C'mon already…" muttered Azure, the recoilless rifles on her back fully-loaded once more and her jaw itching to clamp the trigger. Next to her, Maple pressed himself against the trench wall as much as possible, his eyes wide in fright as he looked on at the charging horde that was getting continually smaller. Sergeant Gunn stood nearby, rock steady and emotionless as he listened to the crump of mortars, the explosions out on the field and the howling of the dogs. Some in bloodlust, some in fear, and a lot in pain.

Finally, they passed one-fifty.

"FIRE AT WILL!" screamed the lieutenant. The order was repeated over the radio, but it was drowned out by all the rifles and machine guns letting loose at the same time. Recoilless guns boomed and snipers let their rifles fire on presighted targets. It was an overwhelming crescendo of noise and light, the muzzle flashes from the ends of the guns and the sounds they made flooding the senses and erasing everything else as every position on Trench 1-A let loose, followed second later by the elevated positions of 1-B and then by the snipers of 1-C. A wall of ordnance smashed into the dogs, eradicating them from the world and blasting their bodies to pieces, sending bloody chunks and globules of mud and ichor flying everywhere.

The gunfire only lasted thirty seconds, and by the end, no dog had made it past one-hundred and twenty meters. The battlewagons up by the gates hadn't even fired yet, and the heavy artillery was still silent. Pegasi flew overhead, ready to drop ordnance on larger hosts. As quickly as the action had begun, however, it was over just as quickly, shrapnel dropping to the ground like the snow around them, the blasted and bullet-ridden corpses of the dogs laying a very clear and obvious path through most of the minefield.

Azure drew herself up, spitting harshly against the lip of the trench. "Animals," she muttered as the recoilless rifles on her back ejected their empty shells, slamming a new pair into place. The draft mare glanced over at Maple who, unlike most rookies, had kept his head about him and actually aimed at the enemy rather than spraying bullets all over the place. Still, she noticed, the colt was breathing heavily, eyes wide and teeth still tight on the trigger, just a nervous twitch away from an accident. Gently, she bumped her weight into his flank, causing the brown colt to let go and look up in surprise. "Relax," she said, smiling easily. "You're alive. They're not. No reason to be stressing out."

Gunn scanned the battlefield once more, eye squinting through the sights as he looked for more enemies. But there was no more gunfire (aside from the occasional pop of a rifle) and the Pegasi were still high overhead, so the enemy had to be all dead. With another second, he exhaled at last, his breath clouding in the snowy air, and pulled back, letting his jaw unclench and the rifle droop low on its gimbal. That hadn't been too bad, an even measure in terms of numbers, but the REA had the advantage in terms of firepower. Unfortunately, with the loss of so much of the minefield, they were going to have one hay of a time holding the next nine-hundred or so back. What was going on? Why didn't the dogs just swamp the trenches? It had worked across the rest of the city…

* * *

><p>"First charge has been destroyed, Colonel," said Razor, listening to his own personal wireless set in the Command Center. Spike sat nearby, taking more notes on his dispatch pad, pretending to not look interested in the possibility of socializing with another of his kind.<p>

Eagle Eye, however, was anything but pleased. He never took any delight from violence in and of itself, but he did have another emotion to replace pleasure, something with more meaning; hope. If the troopers could hold the trenches just like that for the next hour or so, the mythical air reinforcements should arrive…if they really were coming.

Abruptly, his eyes spotted a puff of smoke on the horizon, something rising above the rooftops from a few streets over. He squinted, trying to make out exactly what it might be…and then six more streaks of smoke joined the first in the sky, and his eyes snapped open in shock as he made the connection.

"INCOMING!" he shouted, galloping to the wireless in Razor's hand, depressing the speak button and bellowing "ALL UNITS, PREPARE FOR BOMBARDMENT!"

Too late. As the mortar shells fell on the Equestrian lines, at least a dozen ponies who'd stuck their curious heads over the trench line were blasted backwards, headless or simply in chunks. One colt was so badly wounded and screaming so horribly that a terrified trooper next to him fired a burst from their rifle, and the poor pony was silenced.

The bombardment continued, and Eagle Eye cursed, slamming a hoof to the floor. "Princessesdangit to hay! Where the buck did they get mortars?" He stalked over to the window once more, snatching up a pair of binoculars as he did and lifting them to his eyes, glaring out at the dogs' positions, way on the other side of the neighborhoods.

There! Over the river, they were massing and preparing for another charge. A few hundred this time, most with automatic rifles, grenades, handguns. A few were making quite obvious tunnels below ground, no doubt to try and undermine the trenches. He'd have to get a notice to Major Di'ac about that. But he couldn't find the blasted mortars! And the shells continued to rain down! They were even falling inside the compound now, and the artillery gun wheeled around, the crew swinging a new shell into the breech and firing, the Royal Army mortars also opening up in a quick counter-barrage to try and destroy the enemy mortars.

He swept his eyes over the bridge once more, squinting at the mass of movement. Something big was pulling into position, and he had to zoom out a little in order to finally see what they were. When he saw, however, his heart practically leapt out of his throat.

Two dozen steamwagons were pulling into position to cover the dogs, painted in the black-and-white color scheme of the Stalliongrad police force. The insignia were defaced with crude graffiti, of course, but the heavy machine guns and armor still remained in place.

This day just got even worse, if that was possible.

* * *

><p>Short found Twilight sheltered beneath a fallen beam, sprayed with mud and snow, her helmet being held in place by a hoof. Another shell slammed into the ground only a few meters away from their trench, and Short instinctively ducked as a shower of dirt fell onto him.<p>

"Twilight!" he yelled. He had to make sure she was still okay. If she couldn't fight, she was useless. Plus, if anything happened to her…

He banished that thought, crouching down and nudging her purple side. His hoof met an invisible barrier, and she snapped her head up, very little fear in her eyes. Had she already accepted her fate, or was she just suppressing the terror? Regardless, Short gestured to her, yelling "You alright?"

"Never better!" she replied sarcastically, almost cut off by another falling shell, thumping into the mud and detonating flatly. Suddenly, a burst of machine gun fire, almost lost in the barrage, cut overhead, and Short pressed against the wall of the trench, listening carefully. Over the whistle of shells, the explosion of ordnance and touched off mines and the cries of wounded and dying ponies, one could, if they listened carefully, almost hear the rumbling of steam engines…

He rose up, ignoring Twilight's protests as he carefully peered over the lip of the trench. He was lucky, it turned out. Up on top, the shredded corpse of a unicorn lay, obscuring him from enemy eyes. But this and the fountains of dirt and snow couldn't obscure the fact that there was enemy armor pouring onto their position!

He dropped back down, shouldering into Twilight, hard.

"What the hay?" she snapped, her barrier taking the brunt of the blow and flaring purple.

"We need to move!" Short replied, looking back down the trench at Azure. She stood resolute as the big guns on her back thundered again, delivering high-explosive death to the dogs and their pilfered wagons. A little ways further, two ponies hefted and tossed a grenade between them, undoubtedly sending it flying far, but not far enough. Another shell slammed into the top of the trench, showering them all in dirt, and a long burst of bullets cut overhead.

"We're in trouble here!" Short yelled over the chaos, pushing Twilight along quickly as another shell impacted nearby. The dogs were getting better with their aim! If they were allowed to keep shelling the trenches, they'd soon have ordnance landing inside!

As the two stumbled along back to the squad, a deafening explosion rang out from friendly lines, the hiss of a launched projectile flying overhead and another, muted explosion. Short looked up once more, seeing the battlewagons advancing, their cannons booming as they went. He was almost awed by the sight of an entire armored squad taking to the field, their heavy machine guns sending out a stitchwork of bullets towards the police wagons, one of which was already burning. He looked once more at the enemy charge to see Equestrian artillery and mortar shells exploding among their ranks, bombs dropped from Pegasi fliers and strafing runs lighting up the darkening sky. Flames licked at the corpses of the previous charge as this one made it past one-hundred and fifty yards, still not bothered in the slightest by the amount of rifle and machine gun fire being poured out at them. The recoilless rifles, however, were beginning to have an effect, scoring hit after hit and destroying a few wagons here and there.

However, they were also providing large pieces of cover in the otherwise empty killing field that the Royal Army had so carefully prepared, and a large amount of dogs were making their way across. Even now, there was a charge heading directly towards their section of the trench!

"Twilight, up and fire!" Short yelled, grabbing the bit-trigger and straightening the rifle before clamping down, letting a burst of bullets away. Beside him, he heard Twilight shuffle around with her own gun-yoke before the staggering fire rang out. She still wasn't used to the recoil, it seemed, for the mage's weapon sputtered once, twice, and then one third, long burst that should have thrown her aim off. Abruptly, however, the ground disappeared in front of the dogs as a sheet of fire cut in a straight line before them, followed by a series of explosions that tore into the charging canines, setting them to either pieces or aflame.

Short ducked back into the trench as the mare fired off one, two more bursts before giving up and ducking down with him.

"How the hay did you know there were mines still out there?" he asked, barely able to keep the admiration and astonishment out of his voice. As a reply, Twilight simply smiled and replied "I didn't!"

* * *

><p>Sergeant Major Wheatley Bread had never expected his squadron to actually see any action ever. Battlewagons were too precious a resource to waste hunting after outlaws in the hills around Stalliongrad, so he and the rest of the ponies under his command had to fill their time with maintenance. A lot of it, for there was nothing else to do. As a result, their vehicles were spick and span, shiny and ready to go, operating perfectly in the battle despite their lack of operation time.<p>

The gun boomed again, dropping an empty casing into the shell basket below as the loader hauled another shell out, slamming it into the gun and closing the breech, a well practiced and choreographed routine. Bread nodded in approval as he watched his crew at work, the gunner sighting left before depressing the trigger with his hoof, causing the entire turret to thunder and shake, the entire process beginning again.

"Target dusted!" the gunner exclaimed, pressing his eye back to the sight once more. "Sighting new target…acquired!" The shell slammed into place once more, the breech closing and the loader stepping into his corner to avoid the recoil of the gun, yelling out "She's hot!" The gun boomed again, dumping a third shell into a basket that Bread never thought would see anything close to full.

He was proud of his crew, alright. Their performance scores were absolutely the best of the squadron, which was even now sending their shells smashing into the front lines of the dog charge. However, Bread saw something strange in his own sight, something that had to be corrected. He rose, opening the hatch and peering out onto the flame-lit horizon. Where was it? He had it a second ago…

There! Flying through the smoke, something large and bulky…his eyes widened in fright as he realized the contours and shapes of the machine, ducking back down and yelling "Get us the buck out of here! Gyrocopter incoming!"

But too late. With a loud hissing sound, the attack craft let loose with a dozen rockets, spread out over the line of battlewagons. Four survived, one heavily wounded and unable to move, but the crew still alive. Two, however, did not. One went up when the rocket detonated on her main gun, causing the shell inside to go off and light up the entire magazine. As the rockets slammed into Bread's armored vehicle, one found the weak spot in between the body of the wagon and the turret, gutting it like a hen at a Canid Fall's Feast, spraying debris and shrapnel everywhere.

But the damage was not yet done. As the ponies on the walls and in the trenches attempted to retaliate with heavy machine gun and recoilless rifle fire, the gyrocopter nimbly avoided all the projectiles sent at it and came level with the garrison's Command Center for only the briefest second. Long enough to let loose another four rockets straight at the window. The glass was bulletproof, but not explosive proof.

Colonel Eagle Eye had just enough time to turn pale and mutter "Son of a bi-" before the window shattered and the Command Center was immolated in flames.

* * *

><p><span>Canterlot<span>

Royal Army High Command

Tactical Briefing Room

Princess Celestia had been completely unaware of Luna's pet project, a little something she'd done on her off-time when not involved in one of her other numerous hobbies. Only this time, the topic was something far more grave.

Royal Army Infiltrator Commandos. Also known as Project RAIC. So secret, no one in the civilian pony population knew of their existence. So secret, even Princess Celestia hadn't known.

Princess Luna was a strategist. Not a soldier. As much as she'd wanted to go on this excursion, she knew she would have to wait here as she sent her highly trained secret soldiers off to do their jobs. Do her dirty work.

But that didn't meant she had to sit idle on her tail and do nothing. Even now, she stood next to Major Montegro, previously General before she'd been demoted by Luna herself for not reacting immediately to the orders sent to Royal Army High Command. Instead, Montegro had wanted to correlate the evidence, get some Sky Corps scouts in the area and gather information. Luna had, in quite explicit words that left all the command staff bristling, informed Montegro of what the blue alicorn of the night thought of that plan. Of sacrificing an entire city while information was gathered.

Normally, Luna was a mare of information. But this time, she knew it was time for action. And so, she'd busted General Montegro to Major, four full demotions for failing to obey a direct order. And that order had been to immediately scramble every single RAIC trooper in Canterlot and have them onboard air carriers in less than an hour.

Air carriers worked exactly like the chariots that Celestia used to ferry herself and other important ponies around Equestria. The military version, however, was a touch more functional in both appearance and function. Square sides protected the soldiers riding, and an armored bottom defended the carrier from ground fire. The Pegasi pulling it also wore heavy belly armor for the same purpose, and there were even two Wonderbolts hauling the one the RAIC troopers were in, an unexpected development that was nonetheless useful.

Luna stood in the Command Center now, a headset perched over her ears, watching as the map was constantly updated, pins representing the RAIC troopers and other Equestrian military forces being moved around the map into different sectors. A flight of Sky Corps fliers from the 89th battalion were just taking off from Cloudsdale with an overland convoy of the 102nd from Manehattan following, but these wouldn't make it in time to be of any real help.

No, Luna thought as she glared up at the map, squinting at an assortment of green pins in the north, practically on the line between Stalliongrad's sector and Blind Horse Bluff. The real help would come from an unexpected source.

The real help would come from the 4th Airborne Division, a unit of some seven-thousand fliers. Dispatched hours ago from the Hippogryph Matriarchy's border outpost of Starhawk Point.

* * *

><p>(I'm not saying anything! Except...see ya next week!)<p> 


	11. Chapter 11: The Desperation

(Wow-wow-wee-wow! I almost didn't think I'd have time for this chapter! But, as it turns out, I did, and so I sit here, as do you, and we prepare for another exciting chapter!

And now, **Responses!**

**Nightmare Luna:**...wow...I can honestly say that's the longest review I have ever gotten in my entire life. Ever.

**Numbah six-sixtysix:** The basic idea behind a hippogryph is that its the offspring of a griffon and a mare. Highly unlikely since one preys on the other, but that's mythology for you. Anyway, I intended the Matriarchy to have a violent, turbulent history, and only with Celestia's help did it balance out.

**The Socialist:** Soon, Comrade. Soon.)

* * *

><p><strong>Guardians<strong>

**Chapter 11: The Desperation**

Stalliongrad, Northern Equestria

71st Royal Army Battalion

Battalion Garrison, Defensive Trenchworks, Trench 1B

Major Di'ac couldn't believe her eyes. As the gyrocopter finally retreated from the battalion's retaliatory fire, the Command Center burned, long and bright, flames blazing from the broken window. She staggered forward a few steps, still staring before she realized what that meant. Colonel Eagle Eye was dead. So was Lieutenant Razor. And so were their chances of getting out of this alive.

No! She couldn't think like that. She was still here, and the troopers were still fighting. Most were too distracted to notice the horrible losses they were taking, horrible only because they had started with so few. Almost an entire platoon was gone now, killed just in this brief spat, and the dogs were preparing their third wave now, even while the second was still pounding at the trenches. The zebra turned, looking out over the battlefield again. The armored charge was halted for now, all enemy wagons either destroyed or simply disabled. Incredible. They must have gotten the police vehicles from roadblocks and other response areas, for the precinct had only fallen a short time ago.

Zo Di'ac strode forward, her brow low and her head ducking as she re-entered her trench, approaching Drab and tapping him on the shoulder, saying "Inform the battlewagons to press! And tell all troopers not to fall to less!"

A shell detonated near the lip of the trench, and the Drab raised his head once more to yell "We've been getting some suggestions to fall back, ma'am! What do I tell the platoon leaders?"

"You tell them we have nowhere –to- fall back to lay! This is our last stand, and we either win or we die today!"

She glanced up, suddenly spotting a trio of soldiers about to clamber out of the trench via the back ramp, and she bellowed out "Where are you going with such elation? I gave no order to retreat from your stations!"

"Buck that, ma'am!" yelled one of them, a corporal by his sleeve patch. "I've gotten the manure kicked out of me for eight hours straight! You wanna stop me, you'll have to-" He was abruptly cut off, however, by the crack of a rifle, and he went pale, his hooves losing all strength as he plummeted headfirst into the trench. All the troopers around stared, wide-eyed at Di'ac, but she hadn't touched her rifle. Instead, she simply stared down at the dead pony, her expression one of pity.

"Shoot you? Don't be absurd. But the dogs will gladly blast you down like birds." She snapped her gaze at the others, yelling out "All snipers, we have an enemy shooter in the windows! Find him and kill that dastardly foe!"

* * *

><p><span>Northern Equestria<span>

Forty-Five Minutes from Stalliongrad

Matriarchy Armed Forces, 4th Airborne Division

Mobile Airbase 16, AKA "Artemis"

The Hippogryph Matriarchy. It hadn't always been known as that. Hundreds of years ago, it was the Empire of Grafton, an aggressive, imperialistic state. The ancestors of today's griffons had hunted and eaten ponies and other equines because their favorite meat was horseflesh. But the horses had never gone down without a fight.

That had changed during the conflict centuries ago known as the Dragon Wars, when the Empire had invaded Equestria with the express goal of not only unseating Celestia and destroying the Kingdom but also to kill every dragon in the world, thus robbing their equine enemies of their largest and most powerful allies. With sword and spear, they clashed against the Equestrian lines, but the horse's golden armor and weapons proved to be back not only by iron constitutions but also steel alloys. Unfortunately for the Empire, there was another thing working against them. Sick of the male-centered ways of life, a revolution of mostly female griffons and their male supporters took to the streets with a new invention, from a mostly primitive species to the north; dog crafted gunpowder. But they couldn't do it with this miracle weapon alone. Princess Celestia had divested enormous resources to arming and supplying the revolution, and thanks to this factor it was an extreme success. Once the Empire was shattered and the war declared over, the First Matriarch had renamed their land Hippogryph, in honor of the Princess and the amount she'd given to helping build the new nation. It was a product of both griffon and horse now, and would stay that way for years to come.

Except, in recent decades, things had gone downhill. Power hungry women on the Council had looked eagerly upon Equestria's lands for its abundance of resources and its wealthy economy. There were even some griffons who still felt the pull to taste horseflesh. There had been plenty of border clashes, overeager military commanders who felt war was coming over the horizon, but these had always been ended quickly and compensated for by the offending side, be it horse or griffon.

But Captain Gilda Axeclaw knew that if the dogs hadn't invaded Stalliongrad and the Matriarchy hadn't been called forward to help their old allies, in a few more years the griffons might have been flying to war against Celestia and Luna's forces (what little they were, anyway). As commander of Battleaxe Company, her aggression and drive to be the best had won her the utmost respect (or fear) of her subordinates, and a careful eye of Lieutenant Colonel Harriet Coldheart, commander of the 4th. After all, she'd perfected her flying skills young.

_"Captain!"_ called the leader of the support squadron behind her, codename Scabbard. The Lieutenant there tended to stick to by-the-book regulations, and as such never said Gilda's name over the radio, especially not when flying. For more than one reason, this irked the temperamental griffon six ways from Sunday, and she found herself fighting her anger as she replied "What?"

_"Just got word from Artemis. The commander wants to see you."_ Another thing you weren't supposed to do was say the names or ranks of officers over the level of major on the radio, standard Airborne procedure. Again, however, Gilda was still frustrated. She knew who wanted to see her, no doubt. Could only be the Lieutenant Colonel.

"Roger that," she snapped, diving and pulling a loop to reverse her direction. Her own Lieutenant knew to take over, such was the ease of her command. She had contingencies and plans all in place should things happen, and in her years of serving, she'd never had a single one of them fall apart, so many backups did she make on the fly.

Griffons didn't have infantry, not in the traditional sense as compared to ponies or dogs or even compared to the Prench Republique's famous Foreign Legion. Being able to transition from air to ground, the Airborne was both the Army and the Air Force. Their armored vehicles could be dropped from either the infamous mobile airbases that made them as mobile and quick to react as they were or even hauled in by a squadron of regular griffons.

Regardless, her olive green body armor was pitted in places, with a large bullet hole representing a near miss from a smuggler's round that had nearly ended her life. Her standard issue scattergun hung from her vest, loaded and ready to fire. Being able to carry things meant they did away with such clumsy ordnance as gun-yokes, and all griffon airborne spent hours in practicing how to walk on their hind legs in combat. They were soldiers supreme, able to traverse any terrain…

And yet, she thought bitterly to herself, her body armor was just padded cloth and leather. Nothing like the layered synthetic vests or hard shell ballistic armor of the Equestrian Royal Army or the Canid Hegemonic Marine Corps, respectively. Griffon Airborne were all light infantry. Anything heavier, and they wouldn't be able to take off, for griffons did not possess the magic of Pegasus that allowed them to fly with such small wings. Every ounce counted on Airborne, and for that she resented Equestrian flyers with a passion. Or maybe it was for something else…

She shook her head clear as she coasted through a cloudbank, finally coming upon her destination. Artemis was one of sixty-two Mobile Airfields plying the skies. Whereas Canida focused on shock and awe tactics with enormous armies, Hippogryph was more adept at quick maneuvers with smaller forces. They had to, for Canida had six times the population as both Hippogryph and Equestria combined. There was a price to pay for that, however, as the Hegemonic coffers were constantly emptying and filling, civil wars plagued the land and their military was so large that upgrading equipment and tactics took months at best.

But a Mobile Airbase was entirely self-sufficient. It possessed an armory with a machine shop, a hydroponic farm, a freezer for meat, a water recycling plant, even a garage for two dozen tanks, easily able to be dropped through hatches in the deck, where they'd coast down on a parachute. The enormous assembly was square-ish, with sixteen enormous propellers to hold it up, connected to a massive pair of engines, made to power the entire thing. The Airbase possessed a training yard, a barracks, a classroom and a sophisticated radio suite.

The price for all this greatness was high, however. Mobile Airbases burned large amounts of coal, and even now a large tanker plane was depositing crate after crate of it on the deck, where the engines could burn it and keep it going. The twin plumes of smoke trailing behind the Airbase was also a dead giveaway, meaning that Artemis would never be a stealth craft so long as it ran on steam power. If Hippogryph could only master the kerosene fuel that Canida used, or found some way to produce smokeless coal like Equestria.

Gilda cursed again as she landed on deck, watching a squadron of griffons hustle past. She needed to clear her mind if she was to meet with the colonel. Matriarchy commanders, unlike Canid and Equestria officers, did not have a clear chain of command that led all the way back to a higher up in an office. Instead, each griffon commanded her detachment like sailors on ships; the captain's rule was law, no matter what. As such, Gilda never worried about what Matriarchy Command and Control would say. Simply what Lieutenant Colonel Coldheart decided to do with her next…

* * *

><p><span>Stalliongrad, Northern Equestria<span>

71st Royal Army Battalion

Battalion Garrison, Defensive Trenchworks, Trench 1A

Twilight rose once more, clamping on her trigger as she blasted down another dog. The first time she'd fired, she hadn't been sure she would hit anything. She hadn't been sure she'd wanted to. Killing another living being was, quite possibly, the hardest thing she'd ever done. It was even harder the second time. But now, with brass casings falling at her hooves by the dozen, it had become almost second nature.

The unicorn quickly fired off a magical bolt, smashing into another dog and sending the mutt flying backwards before her shield lit up once more with return fire, and she spun to address the problem, using her telekinesis to sweep the wreck of a steam wagon into another group of dogs.

Nearby, Gunn and Short had been forced to go rump to rump as both sides of the trench were breached, one by overhead chargers and the other by underground diggers, bursting out from the floor and walls of the muddy trench to grab out at ponies or toss out grenades or a spray of bullets. Needless to say, Trench 1A was getting torn to pieces, and it looked like their section was one of the few still holding out, troopers left and right either clambering out to fire from the lip of the trench, dying where they stood, disappearing down a tunnel or, worst of all, running away in terror.

Short paused, glancing back long enough to yell "Battlemages aren't so bad, eh Sarge?"

"Sure," Gunn replied, having tossed his last grenade into the startled face of a tunneling dog, sending both back down the passage. "So long as they're not military!"

Short had a reply ready but was forced to save it, for another dog came down on him from above, only to get a burst in the stomach, sending the heavy body flopping to the ground. Nearby, Azure pumped off another pair of shells into one of the few remaining steam wagons, cursing as one punched straight through before detonating on the buildings far behind it. She had to be getting low on ammunition, but with the chaos around them, there was no way they could retreat yet.

"Where's the lieutenant?" screamed Maple, hosing down another dog. For once, the colt's nervous tendencies were coming in handy, for he was snapping back and forth, up and down, downing enemy after enemy with his wild firing.

"Dead!" yelled another trooper nearby, seconds before a dog shot him in the back of the head, causing Maple, Short, Gunn and Twilight to spin around and fill the canine with bullets.

"What about the captain?" Maple asked next, twitching as a bomb dropped from overhead, setting the trench lip on fire and burning four dogs trying to climb over.

"Dead!" replied Twilight, slamming a tunneler back down into his hole and sealing it behind him.

"Then who's left?" Maple screamed, eyes wide as he jerked around spastically. "I think just the Major!" Short grunted, having just come out of a close tussle with a rather large dog in which the mutt had tried to slice him open with a rusty knife.

"We need to get out of here!" Gunn bellowed as another explosion vaporized a trio of nearby trooper ponies, a bunker further down the line suddenly shattering into rubble. "What the hay is the major playing at, keeping us out here? We're getting slaughtered!"

* * *

><p><span>Trench 1B<span>

"Major, you have to sound the fall back!"

Di'ac ignored Sergeant Conway, her eyes narrowed as she peered out from the ruined bunker she stood in. While the unicorn may have gotten under her skin all the time, thought way too highly of himself and generally tried to preen his own self-importance to everypony else, Zo knew at this point that the stallion was correct. The trenches were being flooded by the rest of the horde of scruffy mongrels, and the longer she stayed here, the more soldiers she would lose. The Colonel would have fallen back already, would have saved as many lives as possible. Yet she'd seen many a skirmish back in Zebrabwe where retreating forces presented targets of opportunity for the enemy, and the concentrated on the fleeing rather than the fighting. Would the same happen here?

It didn't matter. As another battlewagon was mobbed by dogs before the crew was hauled out and hacked to pieces not more than sixty yards from her, she knew the 71st would break soon. The garrison, at least, offered walls and heavy weapons nests. The trenchworks were a barely recognizable killing ground now. Bunkers were split open like shellfish, bodies splayed in piles left right and center, barbed wire ripped up and strung out, craters dotting the landscape like the moon alongside the tunnels that were still popping up. The blackened wrecks of destroyed wagons provided high cover, and scorch marks indicated where the Sky Corps had made their bombing runs. In less than half and hour, this perfect and still landscape had been rendered into a scene from a nightmare, and it was just getting worse.

Finally, she turned to Drab. "Sound the fall back. The garrison will be harder for them to crack."

* * *

><p><span>Trench 1C<span>

"We're falling back!" screamed a nearby trooper that Short couldn't see. "Retreat to the garrison! Fall-"

The pony was abruptly cut off, and Short could easily imagine his fate. He spun around, slamming his rear hooves into the jaw of the dog he'd been fighting. He heard a sharp cracking noise, and the mutt jerked spasmodically as he fell, leaving no doubt of his condition. Nearby, Azure fired again, spitting into the bloody, snowy slush below and calling "I'm out!"

"Go, then!" yelled Gunn as he turned to blast another dog to pieces at point-blank range. They'd been so close, the dog's skin had almost met the sergeant's rifle. "Everypony, get the hay out of here! Over the top, move!"

Almost as one, the squad reacted, with Twilight only a second or so behind. Short and Maple knelt down, allowing both Twilight and Azure to climb up onto their backs, standing and lifting the two mares up and over (Maple struggled a little under Azure's large bulk). Gunn hustled over, and the two stallions lifted the sergeant out as well before reaching up and being pulled by the rest of the squad.

But, before Azure could haul Maple completely over the lip, a tunnel erupted beneath the brown colt, and an enormous dog lunged out, reaching up and grabbing the young soldier's tail. The trooper screamed in panic, releasing Azure and pawing frantically at the ground, but his hooves wouldn't catch, the mud was too slushy. Swiftly, everypony rushed to grab onto some part of Maple, pulling at him as he yelled "PULL ME UP PULL ME UP PULL ME UP! DON'T BUCKING LET GO!"

But, though they struggled for a full minute to save Maple, something finally had to give. Azure's teeth clamped too hard, and she accidentally tore a piece off of Maple's vest, causing the dog to jerk on the trooper's tail. The rest of the squad lost their grip, and suddenly had to focus on not falling back into the trench themselves. With a high-pitched scream of desperation, Maple fell into the tunnel, pulled backwards by the enormous dog until he was out of sight in the darkness. A rifle strobed once, twice…then nothing.

"Get a grenade down there!" Gunn hollered, pointing a hoof at the tunnel, but Twilight bit her lip, peering down at the darkness.

"But…Maple-"

"He's done for! Better to put him out of it quick if he's still alive!"

When none of the others moved, Gunn snorted, stepping forward and jerking Twilight's last grenade from her vest, twisting the safety and letting it drop over the lip. The explosive fell for what felt like eternity before it detonated with a flash, bringing the tunnel down on itself.

"It's called mercy, ponies!" Gunn yelled at the bewildered squad, his face set in stone as he looked each of them in the eye. "It's something the dogs don't have. Now move it!"

* * *

><p>Twilight ran. Faster than when she'd tried escaping the rowdy mob chasing her for the Gala tickets. Faster than when she and Fluttershy had tried to trap Philomena the phoenix. Faster even than when she was charging the hydra. Bullets snapped past her head and the Pegasi were dropping more and more ordnance overhead, trying to keep the dogs off of the fleeing troopers. Up ahead, the last battlewagon boomed, its cannon report loud and deafening before a bazooka rocket tore into the turret, killing the crew and rendering the powerful vehicle useless.<p>

The rest of the squad was galloping alongside her, Gunn out front and Short at her side. The loss of Maple had seemed to steel the others over, and they all wore expressions of tapped fury, each hay bent on murder…but only later. The walls of the garrison swept up before them, tall and inviting, the ponies on the towers raining fire down with the heavy machine guns. Just there, through the gates, the artillery cannon and mortars were still shelling the dogs, dropping rounds even as the few remaining troopers struggled through the gates. Only two steam wagons were left now, driving in from the west, where that front too had been fighting their own share of the horde.

Suddenly, however, just as Victor squad crossed the threshold, the ground shuddered, fountains of mud and snow splashing up into the air, lines forming around the center of the courtyard…as the artillery gun fell into the ground, several mortars going with it, and all the ponies unlucky enough to be caught falling into the giant trap going with them. Captain Tancy's face was screwed up in fury, her lips uttering the commands her crew needed to hear, even as they all fell through the hole. The gun boomed one final time, one last act of defiance, before the dogs were all over the ponies, tearing them apart and gunning them down without remorse, without fear and without mercy.

"FIRE!" screamed Major Di'ac from somewhere close by, and every trooper and Pegasi in range did so, shooting down into the enormous pit. One of the steam wagons had managed to keep its grip, and it provided cover fire for its brother as the crew bugged out, scrambling up the sides and escaping. But many others did not escape. Twilight would later swear that those she saw down in the pit fought to the last, but she knew that was a lie. Most were caught unaware, and others tried to run, but all were killed where they stood.

Abruptly, something slammed into the unicorn's shoulder. No, not something. Some –pony-. Short was shoving into her, hard, and if she hadn't worn her vest, she would have some very bad bruising from the impacts. "Go!" he yelled, pushing her in the general direction of the traffic. "Inside, to the second floor! Move it!" The rest seemed to have the same idea, fighting these invaders from inside as they desperately battled their way through the doorways. Several held the doors open for their comrades, others held the stairs, firing back into the massed wall of slobbering, blood-soaked and vicious mongrels.

She and Short finally reached the top, and the both turned and poured fire down the hallway at anything that moved and wasn't wearing blue, the barrels of their guns getting so hot they began to steam in the cold air. Shell casings rained down as they both screamed incoherently, even Twilight so far withdrawn into herself to escape the ferocity of the outside world that she was running on autopilot, casting spells left and shooting into gray fur to the right. When her rifle finally ran dry, she simply fell back on her magic, ignoring the pounding headache as she sent spell after spell flying. Nearby, Short, Gunn and Azure also fought, teeth and hooves flashing wildly as they kicked, bit, shoved and stomped down on the invaders, letting the troopers run past and take up positions behind them.

In reality, they only held the stairs for half a minute. But it seemed to take an eternity, time slowed down like it was pulled through molasses. Suddenly, Twilight could take in every detail, every sound, smell and sight. The chaos was in slow motion, dogs twisting around as they died in agony, troopers galloping past with overlong strides, bullets whizzing by as muzzle flashes half blinded her, so close were the guns going off. But, as with all things, it finally ended. No more troopers were streaming through, only dogs, and somepony screamed "FIRE IN THE HOLE!" a grenade bouncing by. Instinctively, Twilight turned away from the explosion, but a heavy weight slammed into her, driving the mare further down the hallway. The grenade detonated, and she was blind and deaf now, feeling and watching stone and bits of flesh rain down around her, watching the other troopers flinching away from the blast as well.

When she could finally see and hear, she realized the heavy weight was still on top of her, and she glanced back to find an equally disorientated Short Stop on top of her, his bulk protecting her from the fragments. Although it was completely the wrong time for it, the fact that their bodies were lined up perfectly in such an embarrassing position instantly set the mare's cheeks ablaze and her heart aflutter. What would everyone think, Twilight thought, panicking at how they must look.

Finally, however, Short rolled off of the student's back, letting out a groan as he hit the floor. "Sorry," he muttered, grunting as he righted himself onto his hooves once more. "Didn't think. Just reacted." He glanced back down the now ruined stairs as the silence finally pressed in on them all. No more heavy machine guns were firing in bursts outside, no more thump of mortars and artillery, no explosions of aerial bombs dropped. Dead silence. Short glanced around, fearing the worst and seeing it as he looked at the faces nearby. While it had seemed like a lot, no more than twenty troopers had made it up this staircase to safety. They were all filthy, exhausted and covered in blood, but there was no denying it.

The fight was lost. They had been beaten.

* * *

><p><span>Command Center<span>

The flames were still burning hot, bright and fierce. They licked across paper and cloth, melted plastic and heated metal. The fire was unmerciful as it swept across everything, even the bodies of the soldiers who had died there, ripped apart by the rockets or the shower of glass.

A single scaled arm poked out from beneath a desk, unmoving. It did not burn, as dragons were fireproof, but proof of the creature's demise was obvious.

Spike glanced down at the sundered body of Lieutenant Razor, remorse and grief strong in his dragon heart. These ponies were trying to defend their home, and for that they had all been killed like animals, slaughtered like meat to be served up to a carnivore. What was this insanity, this slaughter of the innocent? Equestria had been surprised, and the dogs had taken from them pound for pound in horseflesh.

He glanced down at the hoof over his shoulder. It was singed and cracked, but Spike knew its owner was alive. He'd checked for a pulse, and found one, if just barely there. The stallion's wounds were horrendous. But he had to get out of there, for this lone survivor to actually make it any long. To the medical ward.

And so, Spike dragged the unconscious form of Colonel Eagle Eye towards the door, laboring under the great black horse's weight.

* * *

><p>(Until next time!)<p> 


	12. Chapter 12: The Siege

(Another week, another dose of soldierpony, people!

Y'know, as I think back on how far I've come with this story, it brings a tear to my eye to think that, in just three more short weeks, it'll be ending at last. I've put so much time and devotion into this project that it's become my love and joy, the final pin in my week and my own sense of accomplishment to see how much my fanbase loves it. Not even the prospect of writing the sequel, Ceasefire, is enough to allay the sadness.

But the fact that Ceasefire will be even longer is definitely some measure of comfort! Ha!

And now, **Reviews!**

**Numbuh six-sixtysix:** teasing was never my intent. I never tease. I leave hints, I do foreshadowing, I drop red herrings, but never tease!

**DoctorWhooves:** if you remember from the last chapter, there is a special forces squadron inbound as well as support from an airborne battalion and an armored column as well, all of them Equestrian Royal Army. They'll just be awhile, is all.

**Drakat:** I've always felt Luna, having a mindset still in tune with Equestria's past, might have retained her fighting spirit and knowledge as a military leader, but obviously they'd never show this on the show. :(

**The Socialist:** I obviously can't say whether or not I think my own story is better than someone else, but I think Fallout Equestria will gain much more favor than Guardians simply because of the compounding fanbase theory; the more people like it and tell others, the larger the fanbase becomes in less time.

**kawaiikun:** good to see our foreign brethren are reading my story. I would reply to you in your own language as a courtesy thing, but I don't think the translator can do the right dialect for Columbia, and I would simply look like an insensitive idiot.

**Random-Reviwer08:** y'know, I didn't intend for it to be shipping when I first started, but something just pulled the story that way, and next thing you know, it's turned into light shipping!

**Nightmare Luna:** Luna! Where have you been? :) It's always good to get a detailed review from you, and I hope you'll continue following along!

Another note, I've been working closely with **GBscientist** to bring you a much more fleshed out and detailed world for the sequel, and I'm hoping you'll acknowledge him when credit is given where credit is due in the future!

* * *

><p><strong>Guardians<strong>

**Chapter 12: The Siege**

Canterlot, Royal Palace

Diplomatic Negotiations Chamber

Princess Celestia Presiding

"By the Prime Alpha, these accusations are an insult and complete madness against myself and the whole of the Hegemony!"

Prime Minister Dale Mation of the Canid Hegemony slapped a white and black speckled paw to the desk, his expression furious as his black ears twitched absently. Mation had led the Hegemony for near ten years now, an admirable time but obviously still not enough to give him some patience in office. His hackles were raised and his golden eyes narrowed as he glared at the camera mounted in the Long Range Negotiations Room of Ottopaw, Canida's capital. Even now, centuries after Canida had formed their nation, the Prime Minister's accent still held a little flair of the Prench, another independent pony nation, from back when Neighpoleon had attempted to subjugate the entire canine race under his rule. Needless to say, it hadn't quite worked out in the long run.

Celestia grit her teeth as she glared at the television monitor in front of her, successfully managing to not let her emotions get the better of her. Ironic, really. The television was a griffon invention, and the camera a canine one. Even these small examples showed just how much Equestria depended on others for industry and technology. How far they had fallen from being the large, powerful juggernaut from back when ponies wielded lances to now where they weren't even able to protect a single city from utter destruction.

The alicorn quickly brought her mind back to the task at hand; getting to the bottom of this issue and defusing the current tensions before things got worse, if they could get worse at this point. "Prime Minister, no one is accusing the Hegemony of any such thing. The Matriarch was simply making an observation."

At this, a light chuckle emanated from another television set, this one on Celestia's left, with a video camera plugged into that one as well. "Observation? Like I need to spell it out for you, it's happened several times before. Let's see, what about Viperia? Hmm? Sound familiar, two cities burned to the ground before they were stopped and Canida offered 'peacekeeping war reparations?' What about Zebrabwe? If it weren't for you and your welfare programs, Celestia, what do you want to bet that the jackals and hyenas would be running the show?"

Celestia gave out a quiet "Ah-haaa…" as she tried to consider just how much of a rock and a hard place she was caught between. Matriarch Scythia Steelclaw had been noted several times by Equestrian advisers as being a stubborn and blunt woman, and the uniformed griffon certainly wasn't holding back. Instead, she lashed out once again, her beak clacking angrily as she snapped "The Hegemony has, over the last few decades, brought a dozen minor nations under their control without a single major loss, except for Zebrabwe, through one form of invasion or another. If the 'mysterious rash' of diamond dogs succeeds in undermining the land, Canida steps forward to offer its troops in helping to clear them out –and then never leaves!- Or, if by some miracle the local troops are able to push the Droolers out, Hegemonic Marines are suddenly down at the beach!"

Mation bristled onscreen, a small growl escaping him as he retorted with his own rapid fire criticisms. "That's the pot calling the kettle black, Matriarch! Hippogryph has annexed several lands into their empire in the last century! What happened to the Kodiak Dominion, Matriarch? Bulldozed and refounded as a 'protectorate' state! Bet the bears don't feel very protected!"

"That's different, Prime Minister!" Steelclaw snapped, her talons digging furrows in the oak desk she sat at, wings unfurling in anger. "The Dominion chose to blockade two of our ports and refuse to let any trade through our shared borders unless we acquiesced to their demands, which would have been extortion! Meanwhile, the Hegemony continues to grow and nibble up islands and coastal lands! How long until you try and invade Prance again?"

"ENOUGH!" yelled Celestia, finally having had enough. She reared her head back, eyes blazing with the power of the sun behind them as the emotional dam she'd been trying to hold up finally broke. Panic at the thought of another war after so many years that she was nowhere near ready for, distress at the thought of so many ponies dying, worry over the fate of Twilight and finally frustration at how these discussions had hit stonewalls repeatedly for the past four hours. Fortunately, both Steelclaw and Mation fell silent, staring at their respective screens.

"I have an entire city in flames, infested by canines wielding military equipment! Ponies are dying by the thousands and the only Army unit up there has been practically annihilated by now! Whether you accept it or not, Prime Minister, this –is- Canida's fault, one way or another, and I don't have time to sit here and dicker with the both of you, so SHUT UP!"

Around the Princess, papers swiftly began catching fire, spreading to the tables quickly. The floor turned blackened where she stood, and her entire coat steadily began turning orange from her fury. The nearby Royal Guard ponies simply stood there, unsure of what to do and unwilling to get closer to their monarch. Finally, however, the decision was made for them as all the rage suddenly seemed to dissipate from the princess, and she stood there panting as if she'd just galloped up to Stalliongrad herself. Cautiously, one of the Guards stepped forward and quickly stamped out the fires until the papers were nothing but smoldering ash before stepping away just as swiftly.

"Right…" Celestia gasped, standing up straight and clearing her throat, one of the forelocks that had drifted into her eyes pushed away by a minor spell. "I needed that. So. To business, then."

* * *

><p><span>Stalliongrad, Northern Equestria<span>

Army Garrison Command Center

71st Royal Army Battalion (Remnants)

As it turned out, things weren't as grim as they seemed.

True, it was depressing to only be surrounded by about a dozen other ponies, but the news coming from Corporal Drab's radio pack was slightly heartening. The battalion's Sky Corps detachment had scattered when the artillery had been overrun, with several Pegasi escaping to safety on the rooftops. Apparently, a single Lieutenant Wingkins was left in command of them, and he had confirmed about ten of the flying ponies had survived the onslaught. Meanwhile, good news had come from another squad across the compound, trapped in the armory but managing to hold where they were.

And then the bad news. The infirmary, being on the first floor, was full of wounded troopers and unarmed medical staff. The nurse in charge (the doctor had been killed by a mortar blowing out a wall) had known they wouldn't hold out long, and decided to euthanize every single pony in the place, choosing to ease their pain rather than let them suffer. She and her other staff had just finished their heartbreaking task when the dogs had finally breached the doors. Then the line went dead.

Now, the twenty exhausted and battered survivors rested in the torn and wrecked concrete hallway above the ruined staircase, listening to the howls and barks of the horde still outside, trying to plunder what was left of the garrison's treasures. Not that there was much. Some bullets, a few gun-yokes, what few explosives were left. By the end of the night, though the diamond dogs would pick the entire place clean.

No word had been received from First Company, and Drab's radio pack was too damaged to try and boost the signal out to the harbor. Major Di'ac finally told the corporal to turn the radio off, and the cries of distress and calls for help fell silent.

The survivors were few. They consisted of Major Di'ac (battered and beaten but still standing tall, helmet off and her mane plastered flat against her neck) Corporal Drab (who had nothing to do now he no longer had his radio) Sergeant Conway (with nothing to say for the first time in his life) Sergeant Gunn (staring out at the chaos of the city through the damage of the walls) Azure (who no longer wore her recoilless pack due to no ammunition) Short (sitting against the wall, cleaning his rifle) and a few other lucky privates who had managed to be faster than their fellows.

And Twilight. Though at this point, she was seriously wondering why she of all ponies was still breathing, being the least experienced among these veterans and highly trained troopers. She looked around, glancing at each and every pony around her, trying to gleam some measure of understanding. With all the other officers dead, Major Di'ac looked to be the only survivor with a rank over sergeant, and the rest of the survivors were all enlisted personnel. How did that happen? Were your chances for survival greater simply because there were more ponies around? Was it luck more than skill that dictated who lived and died in war?

She'd already removed and dropped her helmet and gun-yoke, unwilling and unable to wear them any longer. Besides, she was out of ammunition anyways, and what precious few bullets they had left were distributed amongst the more capable troopers, those who hadn't collapsed from the exhaustion of eight hours of heavy combat, or the mental strain of the calamities and horrors they had witnessed. Unsurprisingly, Major Di'ac and the last three ponies of Victor squad were still on their hooves, pacing around and trying to remain soldierly, rifle bins rattling with the last few hundred bullets left.

Twilight took the opportunity to study the major. Unlike Zecora, she did not have a spiral sun on her flank, the space instead taken up by a ragged star, its ends pulled back until it resembled more of a buzz saw than a celestial mark. Her stripes were also a harder shade of black rather than the gray that Ponyville's resident immigrant wore, and the major's general shape was larger, bulkier. If one was unfamiliar with zebras, Major Di'ac would have slipped into a crowd easily. Twilight, however, had met the ambassador to Zebrabwe in Canterlot, an elderly stallion by the name of Zerabi, and had seen his staff as well. It had taken her a few days, but Twilight could eventually name different zebras just by looking at their stripe pattern. Di'ac was a totem of strength and stability, even as lack of rest sapped at her muscles, and she was what the survivors of the battalion needed right now. Though her words with the military mare had been few, Twilight decided she liked Zo. A little rigid, surely, but she would like to spend some time with the commander back where it was safe, get to know her a little better.

Her gaze shifted to Azure, another strong mare. Without shells for her recoilless rifles, the draft mare had shrugged off the rig, leaving it sitting in the corner as she stretched out, muscles bunching up immensely. Twilight's eyes widened at such strength, for she'd only ever seen such power on Big Macintosh back on Sweet Apple Acres (when she'd been stealing glances seemingly a lifetime ago). Azure's cutie mark, obstructed before now, now showed a red boxing glove, surrounded by white stars, and Twilight couldn't fight the chuckle that rose from within her. Of course Azure would be a boxing mare. She had the build and determination for it, after all. The object of her study suddenly relaxed, yawning and shaking her white mane out, and Twilight suddenly found herself staring at a spitting image of the tricky illusionist unicorn known as Trixie (albeit if Trixie was an Earth pony and twice as big with actual courage). She felt her jaw drop before she shook her head.

No, couldn't be. The chances of that…it was just a coincidence. Right?

To distract herself, she traced her eyes over to the immense form of Sergeant Gunn as he stepped directly in front of her. Still in full uniform and battlegear, he held himself high and alert, ever vigilant for danger. He looked the biggest mess out of everypony, though that might have been because he'd been struck by a flying, burning beam in the trenches. He was covered in the same amount of grime, but ash and charcoal had mixed into his black mane and blue coat, causing a mosaic of grime that would have helped disguise him by pressing against a building. However, despite his signs of fatigue, his silver shield Cutie Mark was, miraculously, untouched. She stared at it a moment longer before realizing where her eyes were drifting, and she turned back to stare down the ruined staircase again, seriously considering Short's words earlier.

Obviously, Lock had some kind of attraction to her, and the prodigy student needed to figure out if she shared them. Short had told her he was emotionally scarred by his service, and she didn't want to add heartbreak to that. As such, she needed time to assert whether this desire to stay by the squad's side was simply because it was the right thing or if she felt like staying near Gunn…or being near-

Twilight's thoughts were interrupted by the flop of a heavy weight next to her, and she snapped out of her mental quagmire to glance next to her, finding the gray-furred form of Short Stop himself, sitting in a very odd pose next to her. She'd seen a unicorn named Lyra do the same as him back in Ponyville, back up vertically, rear hooves dangling over the edge and resting back onto his forehooves. It was rather strange.

He sighed, snapping her examination once more, and looked at her, smiling sadly as he asked "Holding up?"

She shrugged, glancing out one of the holes in the wall at the carnage outside. "As much as anypony, I suppose."

He chuckled, but she knew he didn't find any humor in her comment. It just seemed the natural reaction, she supposed. "Yeah…after all that stuff out there…'nuff to make a sane pony go mad, eh? Wonder ah didna go crazy mahseff all that time ago."

There it was again, his slip into another accent. Only, this time it seemed to be on purpose. As if he was actually trying to do it, instead of failing to cover up a speech problem. She looked back at him, blinking in confusion as she tried to frame the question correctly. Before she could speak, however, he sighed, smiling sadly and saying "This is how ah normally speak. Mah Pa, he a'ways say ponies judge bah the way y' talk first of all. Taught me t' speak like some city-colt."

Her jaw dropped as she realized that Short's accent was even more pronounced than Applejack's. The farm mare had always told the unicorn that her father had been born down south, but she'd never visited. The pieces swiftly assembled themselves, and she spluttered out "You're from Savanneigh!"

Short blinked in surprise, trying to catch up to her level of thinking as well. "Am ah really so easy t' figger out?"

"Well, no." Twilight admitted, frowning as she mentally retraced her steps. "Sergeant Gunn told me. He said you were one of the only recruits he knew of that wasn't local to the battalion. What you said earlier –did- sound like Applejack."

"Who?"

"A friend of mine…back in Ponyville, she runs a farm called Sweet Apple Acres. Her accent's not as bad as yours, but she told me about her father's birthplace. Savanneigh, down in the southeast. They're really isolated from the rest of Equestria."

"It's true," chuckled Short, reaching up and pulling his helmet off, running a hood over his short mane in what had to be embarrassment. "Though, it's mos'y self-maintained. We like what we do, the way –we- do it, an' even Princess Celestia won' change my kin."

Twilight chuckled in return, grateful to finally have a break in the horror that she had been living through. She finally realized what Short was doing, socializing like they were waiting for the train. He was distracting her, drawing her mind away from the nightmare and into a place where she could finally relax and recuperate, and in her fatigued state she found her multi-tasking capabilities to be hindered, if not fully stopped, and it took her entire mind to focus on what Short was saying.

"Mah family plays baseball. Plays it with a passion, like it's our first-born foal an' there isn't an'thing that could keep us from 'em. The true sign that you're a Stop is when you start playin professionally. Hay, ah got a baseball playing ancestor goin' back ever since the sport was invented. Mah Ma, mah Pa, even mah little sister. They all played in the big leagues, mah sister still in the circuit."

Twilight's smile faded as she saw the obvious gap, and she leaned a little closer, shuffling to reposition herself. "But not you?"

He sighed, still staring down at the first floor below. "Not me. Ah nevah had mah shot. Nevah got outta the minor leagues. Ah had talent scouts watchin' me, o' course. But then somethin' happened, which kept me out forever." He looked up at her now, and she finally got the first good look at his eyes that she'd had all day. Blue, bright blue, and filled with energy, curiosity…and sorrow. Twilight found herself drawn to those eyes, being pulled into their depths like a hollowed out glacier that somepony had dropped her into with a pair of wings, allowing her to enjoy the ride and not worry about the plummeting fall to the bottom…she blinked, and he looked an inch to the side, breaking the split-second connection. She felt her cheeks heat a little, grateful he couldn't see the blush under the grime.

Short continued, his eyes glazing over as he went back into his own memories, recalling the events.

"It was a few years ago, right here in Stalliongrad. Ah was playing fer a small time team, the Savanneigh Sharks. We'd been on a hot-streak fer weeks, pasting tha Canterlot Cavalry an' even tha Manehattan Mashers. All that stood in our way of Junior Regional Champions was tha Stalliongrad Sluggers. They was good, too. But we thought we was better. Thought we'd just stroll in 'ere an' take that cup right out from under their muzzles. Woulda gotten a lot of us noticed an' probably recruited fer the big time teams, place was swarming with scouts. But it weren't no easy fight, lemme tell you." His accent was becoming stronger, his proper grammar slipping as he became adjusted to his born tongue once more, more confident with the pronunciations and the effortless way the slurring dialect just spilled off his tongue. "We fought back 'n forth, heavin' and huffin'. Hard game, that one. Finally, though, it came down to th' ninth an' we was down by two. Now, we had two other colts on the plates when ah stepped up myself, but we'd already gotten two other strikes. Ah was in the worst place possible, th' snap pitch to decide whether we won or lost. Fortunately, ah didn't have much time to worry about it." He smiled, sadly, holding up his right hoof for her to see. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with it, but Twilight knew that it would be the key to the next part of his story.

And it was.

"Colt was nervous, ah could tell. Ah also hadn't seen him on th' plate fer tha entire game. He hadn't got his bearings straight, an' he was fresh, but the Stalliongrad coach had rotated him in fer a reason. Anyway, he panicked, an' tossed it wildly off mark an' way too hard. Ah wen' down. Hard, on this ankle. An' the bone just snapped clean in two."

He looked at her again, dropping the hoof. For long minutes, he didn't say a word, simply stared at her with an expression of…what? Sorrow? Regret? Anger? It was impossible for the mage to tell, and she bit her lip nervously, but didn't say a word. At this crucial stage, she felt anything she would voice would simply dissolve the bridge of trust Short was building between them. So, instead, she stared back, inching a little closer until she nudged up against the young stallion's side, feeling his body heat through her vest and letting him know she was there for him.

Finally, he began again, all traces of his accent gone, his voice strained and wavering, his face somehow still rock solid. "After I got out of the hospital, my parents tried to make me feel better. Like I hadn't failed. But the major leagues are strict about bone injuries. They don't take chances, and one accident screwed me over for the rest of my career. I was feeling so down, I hiked out to wander. Wound up going to the Royal Army garrison in Savanneigh, home of the 7th Battalion. And I saw what I was really meant to be there. My Cutie Mark may have laid down what I was special at, but I couldn't do it anymore. So I put my physique to use before I lost it and enlisted as soon as I could,"

He smiled again, a little more confidence instilled in his voice. "I traveled to Stalliongrad before I signed up. Didn't want anypony back home to give me any special treatment, back where my family was legends. Here, I was a nobody, somepony else who just filtered into the ranks. And I found my new special talent. Here, I learned that I could be all I can be, and I loved every minute that challenged me to it!"

He looked at her with a new enthusiasm, something he hadn't possessed even before he began speaking with Twilight. She smiled back as she saw the new sense of wonder in his eyes as he recalled the emotions, replayed the events. Now, she knew, was the time to say something.

But she didn't so much say it, at first, as show it. Without reservation (though with burning cheeks) she leaned forward and quickly pecked Short on the cheek, withdrawing just as fast before saying "For what it's worth, you turned out pretty good, Short."

As she watched his bewildered expression, Twilight finally had an answer for herself, and something she needed to say to Gunn. Turned out she wasn't sticking around just because it was the right thing…

* * *

><p><span>Stalliongrad, Northern Equestria<span>

71st Royal Army Battalion, 1st Company

Forward Positions, assisted by elements from 2nd Company

Golden Ox Hotel, Dining Room, 1st Company Field HQ

Word had finally been made official, as it turned out. The garrison was gone, and with it was also the Colonel and their only hope of getting out alive. But Captain Sanders ignored the dread closing in on him, instead channeling it towards his intense hatred for the dogs, the mongrels, the animals who had rained such devastation on the city. He studied the map once more, frowning at the reports scattered around him, most scribbled out hastily by mouth or with a spritz of unicorn magic. The reports were clear, at least. The dogs had finally stopped advancing. What was left of them had devolved into smaller packs as their largest group fell on the garrison, and though there were easily still a little less than half of the original deployment in the Industrial Sector, they were no longer united and pushing. In fact, according to the company's scouts, the stupid creatures were even fighting amongst each other! Wasting good manpower, ammunition and initiative in pointless squabbles over what they had conquered.

The line was holding, and he still had over a hundred battle-capable ponies maintaining the perimeter. The wounded were being patched up at field triage in a café a few streets over, and there was no further sign of any more pushes in their direction. Sanders let out a laugh, running a hood over his head and knocking his cap off, where it fell without notice. They'd weathered the storm, and even though there was no way to counter-attack, there was still a Royal Army presence in the city to meet the liberation forces that even now had to be coming within visual sight of the city.

He laughed again, sweeping an enormous stack of papers off the table. They'd done it! With the troopers keeping the ring intact and the dogs no longer pushing, they'd held a single spot in the city for reinforcements to rally at. And at the most important place too, right in spitting distance of the very cargo ship that had come in under false colors to kick off this entire sneak attack! The dogs were going to be caught with their pants down, and half the city was still intact!

Sanders was so relieved, however, that he was still dancing when Lieutenant Dandelion entered the room, staring at her superior going loony in the center of the dining room. Sanders, fortunately, caught on quickly and composed himself, coughing lightly to try and dispel the awkwardness.

"News, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Captain." Here, Sanders saw that she had a rolled up sheet of paper poking out of a saddlebag, and his brow furrowed as she stepped over to the table, hooves clopping on the hard wood, and took out the sheet, a concerned expression on the mare's face. "It's not good, sir."

* * *

><p><span>Northern Equestria<span>

Over Stalliongrad

Matriarchy Armed Forces, 4th Airborne Division

Mobile Airbase 16, AKA "Artemis"

Office of Lieutenant Colonel Harriet Coldheart

"Incredible! From the reports, I'd thought the entire city had been put to the torch, but somehow those ponies held the mutts back long enough!"

Gilda nodded, her expression neutral as she too looked down at the floor, at the reinforced glass under her claws that showed the city, stretching out in all directions. Of course, Artemis had taken up position over the center, appropriately (and uncreatively) named City Center. Scouts and forward units dispatched down there found traumatized police ponies and wounded Royal Army troopers holding city hall, if just barely, against a small force of a hundred dogs. With a few aerial bombs, several strafing runs and two airdropped Featherweight light tanks, the canines had been destroyed, and the most crucial target secured. But Gilda had also learned that the police headquarters was empty, sacked and looted, nothing but corpses and debris left inside. The positions outside City Center were also abandoned, the supposed main line at Steed Square overrun. The strangest thing was to see the dogs shooting at each other, of course, but once Coldheart had found this was not an actual military invasion she had recalled all units to City Center, to hold the place until a decisive attack plan could be formulated.

Hence, why Gilda was here, and not out tearing the mongrels to ribbons with her claws, dropping grenades on their heads or blasting them with her scattergun. For now, the 4th was deployed to maintain a perimeter and relieved the drained troopers of their responsibility. Eight entire hours, and they'd held the dogs in the Industrial Sector. In fact, the scouts were even reporting Royal Army radio signals coming from the harbor, indicating another holdout force there.

But what did that matter, Gilda thought snidely, when they had lost their command center? The garrison was a wreck, the defenses overturned and the soldiers guarding it dead. No survivors had emerged as Artemis had flown overhead, and no survivors were coming out now. Who else but the Matriarchy possessed mobile airbases? No one, any ninny knew that. And since ponies were smarter (only by a little) than complete ninnies, she knew they were all barking dead.

"Colonel, I recommend we evacuate all Royal Army personnel from the Industrial Sector and commence heavy bombardment procedures. It's the only real way to get rid of the infestation, we both know that." Gilda Axeclaw was cruel and cold indeed, but she also knew that someone had to bring up the idea eventually, and it was the only way forward.

Sadly, Coldheart nodded, watching the city for another minute before the colonel turned to her desk, saying "Very well. We will commence heavy bombardment as soon as evacuation is completed. I also want a force sent to take out that ship, make sure they cant' escape."

Gilda rose, slamming a claw over her chest in salute. "Yes, Lieutenant Colonel." She placed a slight emphasis on the junior title, a nudge at Coldheart that the older griffon didn't even seem to notice, so enraptured was she by some reconnaissance report or another.

* * *

><p>The hallway ahead was dark, dreary...and loooong. Spike huffed in irritation as he pulled and tugged, trying to haul the Colonel's unconscious weight. He should have realized a horse of Eye's bulk would weigh a lot, but in the rush to escape the fire he hadn't really considered it. He was paying for that error now, though, as his muscles strained to keep pulling the stallion towards salvation.<p>

Finally, however, Spike had to stop. Huffing and puffing, he fell to the floor, a quick rest before he tried again. He was beaten, dirty and irritated, feeling a few glass shards stuck in his purple scales.

"War sucks..." he growled, brushing his arms off, trying to find the translucent slivers. As he did so, however, a noise caught his ear. The faint hash of static over a radio, coming from another direction. Curious now, he stood, toddling over to a nearby door that seemed to have been left ajar. With a heave, the door swung inward, and Spike found himself in the abandoned radio room, facing dozens of glowing lights from systems with such a minimal power requirement that even with the main power offline they could still function.

And then, he heard it again.

_"Major Di'ac, this is Cobra Six! Repeat, we are seeing an aircraft overhead of enormous proportions. The Matriarchy's here, Major! If you can hear us, please respond, give us orders! They're not even coming over here, and I think I can see the bomb bay doors opening!"_

* * *

><p>(Will our diminutive hero save the city and the survivors who dwell within it in time to reverse irreparable damage? Tune in next time!)<p> 


	13. Chapter 13: Praying on a Miracle

(What ho, loyal readers and casual observers! We reach chapter 13! Only two weeks of Soldierpony remaining! I will admit, finding a place to -end- a story is always hard for me, but it looks like I have a fitting finale lined up for you in chapter 15 (not to mention the epilogue the week after!) and I am working hard to tie up everything you guys are asking for! So, without further ado;

**Responses!**

**DoctorWhooves:** there are dozens, if not hundreds or even thousands, of stories where soldiers have extreme personality changes in war, and change their ways of thinking. I wanted to show Twilight travelling down an unknown road, unsure of where she was going but completely sure of herself in the end. Just don't expect her to become spec ops after all this. XD

**Nightmare Luna:** well, did you get the TARDIS? Either way, it's always good to get a review from you Luna, you make me feel all fuzzy inside. lol Anyway, I love the amount of praise you keep heaping on me, but I must admit I actually had not originally planned for that scene with Celestia negotiating. However, it seemed to me that there was too much in doubt of what the Princesses were up to in helping to clear their city, so I decided it was time to take a small detour, and that's the result.

**The Socialist:** y'know TS, I didn't actually write this story to make any kind of political statements. I obviously can't tell you to stop (I am a hardcore Bill of Rights upholder) but I would appreciate if you toned it down a little.

**GBScientist:** well, I'm hoping you'll still be with me when I keep going, full steam!

**CommanderRy:** the Air Force was disbanded years ago to save money on personnel and keep the military as dumbed down as possible. All air power is now handled by the Army Sky Corps, but the Wonderbolts are still on standby in case the AF needs to be reactivated. As for the diplomat, well...if you were drowning, would you really care who was holding the rope being held out to you?

Don't forget, people! Since we're near the end of Guardians, I must remind you to Alert me, the Author, so that when I publish Ceasefire you can get word of it! As for all you viewers from Equestria Daily who have been following me, I once more thank you and hope you keep reading!)

* * *

><p><strong>Guardians<strong>

**Chapter 13: Praying on a Miracle**

Stalliongrad, Northern Equestria

9th Hegemonic AOT (Advanced Operations Taskgroup)

Current Mission: Espionage and Resource Retrieval

Cargo Ship _Pride of Ottopaw_, Docked in Harbor

His paw was currently toying with the lit cigar, turning it from side to side for his examination. Fine Viperian tobacco, it was. He loved this brand, though they were expensive as all hell. That was the price of good taste, he supposed. If he had to sacrifice a few extra coins to get good taste, well then it had to be worth it. He raised it to his lips, taking a deep pull before letting the smoke waft out from between his jowls. Cigars were, after all, for relaxation, not for relieving an itch. You didn't simply pop outside for a quick five minute cigar, you smoked it for an hour and enjoyed the scent of it.

Another perk of command, Major Ulrich Boxer supposed, was the ability to essentially screw the rules and regulations, which he did only so long as they fit the task at hand. For example, he was supposed to be below decks right now to maintain absolute secrecy on this operation. But he was out in plain sight, where any Royal Army trooper with a spotting scope or marksman yoke could spot him. But he knew that it wouldn't change anything. The fact that his dogs below on the signal interception machines had picked up several transmissions reporting dogs in winter camouflage and black combat armor meant that the jig was up. The need for secrecy was no more. And yet, his soldiers were so loyal that a constant pair of bodyguards followed him everywhere.

Most dogs in the Hegemonic Armed Forces could never even dream of even laying eyes on one of the fabled Special Forces teams. The majority of the military was concentrated in the Army, the next in the Fleet and Marine Corps. The Hegemonic Air Service received the fewest soldiers of all the branches, simply by process of needed manpower. But one actually needed to possess incredible skill and not simply sheer luck to become one of the fabled Black Ops. Operators were covert, stealthy and lethal to the core, able to kill without a moment's hesitation. Cruel dogs, but then again, the Hegemony survived based on cruelty giving way to mercy.

The diamond dogs were an example of that. Thanks to their poor selection in breeding choices and failure to maintain the Lines, they had not only overpopulated their designated territory, but also become the pariahs and outcasts of the world. Fortunately, there were many of them, and criminals were generally so scruffy and savage that they could easily be folded right into the flocks of mutts and mongrels. Which gave birth to Canida's most successful foreign policy ever designed.

It was simple, really. Diamond dogs were released into the target nation by the thousands to spread disorder and compromise the land itself, divesting the soil of resources and workable fields. The target's military would respond on all fronts, of course. The inbreeds weren't very able fighters, but they had numbers on their side to compensate for their lack of skill, as shown in this very battle. Thus, when the target nation was on its knees, the Hegemony came along and offered to 'help drive out the infestation.' By that point, the target was usually begging for assistance.

But not here. Not Equestria.

Major Boxer sighed, letting out another puff of smoke as he leaned against the gunwales of the ship, staring out idly at the devastation before him. Estimates were that the police officers and Royal Army troopers in the area would be wiped out within two hours. Projected casualties for the criminals released from the cargo hold were, of course, very high. But no one in Canida had even imagined that the Royal Army could last an entire eight hours or that they would hold off the half-wits until reinforcements arrived. Which meant that, although it had been a long shot even at the beginning, completely destroying Stalliongrad was out of the question. Most of the idiots had already begun fighting each other, rather than the enemy, desperate to hold onto what they had.

"Ah, well," Boxer said out loud, glancing down at his cigar cheroot before discarding it over the side. "We got what we came for and kept the ponies distracted." At this, he turned back, stepping past his lupine soldiers to the edge of the open cargo hatch, peering down into the depths. Where once there were many smelly and unwashed canine bodies all packed together and awaiting the chance to earn their 'freedom' there was now a heaping pile of gemstones, towering almost up to the deck where the support crews worked. They'd had to relocate the gyrocopter to the emergency landing pad on the deck itself rather than land it down in the hold, so many riches had been pilfered from Stalliongrad's storehouses.

Boxer's mission had been a complex, multi-layered beast, a chimera so ugly that it had taken him several nights of study to understand even part of it. Fortunately, his trial was almost at an end, and he and his operators would be extracted soon with their prize. Boxer looked up, narrowing his eyes at the bulging shape on the horizon, long ago forced to the surface by the harbor's shallow waters. There, in the distance, was the swell and shape of a Beluga Class Submersible, with the numbers CNV-1108 stenciled on the conning tower. A single submarine wouldn't be able to haul away all the gemstones, of course, but perhaps Commander Garret could be informed of the situation and the ship turned around once more. All he knew was that he had to wait for orders from Canida.

Unfortunately, Boxer thought as he looked up at the Matriarchy contraption floating above the city hall in the distance, waiting around might just be what got them all killed.

* * *

><p><span>71st Royal Army Battalion, 1st Company<span>

Forward Positions, assisted by elements from 2nd Company

Golden Ox Hotel, Dining Room, 1st Company Field HQ

Dandelion had been right. This was –not- good.

"Lieutenant," Sanders said, his tone even as he attempted to formulate his thoughts without betraying his emotions. "Tell me why I'm seeing a submarine in the harbor."

To her credit, Dandelion let of her emotions, becoming the balancing factor to Sanders' calm façade. "What do you think, sir? The dogs decided their rabble wasn't enough and sent in real soldiers to finish the job!"

"Stand down Dandelion," Sanders snapped sharply, grateful she could at least be the one freaking out so he wouldn't lose his composure. "You want to fight, get to the front and send back Lieutenant Cotta to take your place."

That shut her up. Lieutenant Terra Cotta was one of Captain Sanders' original platoon leaders from 1st Company. Even though she was relatively experienced in the battalion, she had been in it for two years less than Dandelion, and had been disappointed when Sanders had handed the second-in-command slot to the lieutenant from 2nd Company when the time came.

That did the trick. Dandelion checked her temper, clearing her throat to show she was ready to work again before continuing with the briefing, pushing the photo to the side and pulling another recon report from her saddlebag.

"Our detachment from 4th Company reports that the submersible emerged in the harbor twenty minutes ago, out on the very edge. The water must be too shallow for them to navigate safely, or they wouldn't show themselves like this. The numbers on the hull are unknown, mostly because we don't have a handy list available of Canida's units."

"Does High Command even have that list?" Sanders asked sarcastically. Celestia had no need for spies, and without an Air Force no top secret recon flights had gone overseas in decades.

Dandelion continued, ignoring the captain's tomfoolery.

"We have identified the shape, though. Beluga Class, meant for underwater transport more than attack. She's limited to the flak guns on her back and a cabinet of decoys for arsenal. Which means, sir, that she's either coming in with a whole lot of Canid Marines, or-"

"Or she's here to pick something up, I get it Lieutenant." Sanders squinted at the newly developed photograph, hurriedly rushed and especially grainy. That was the problem with Equestrian technology, he supposed. Too far behind. And now their laxity was catching up with them.

The floor shook with tremendous force as something impacted several miles away.

* * *

><p><span>Army Garrison Ruins<span>

71st Royal Army Battalion (Remnants)

When the ordnance began dropping, they weren't too far away from the garrison, sending shakes harder than the worst earthquake through the foundations of the structure. Twilight was suddenly sent rolling over, slamming into Short and knocking the both of them into a wall. Bits of concrete and masonry rained down upon them, and everypony was crying out in alarm, trying to stifle the panic.

"What's going on?" yelled a nearby trooper. "Did the dogs find an artillery battery or something?"

"Dear Celestia, I hope not…" Twilight murmured, ducking her head again as another tremor shook the building. "What do we do if they can flatten us from miles away?"

"Let's go!" yelled Gunn, shooing the two down the hallway, somehow staying on his feet as the next explosion rocked the hallway. "You can sit and think about what's trying to kill us when it's not trying to kill us anymore!"

With that, the trio fell silent as the motley group of survivors galloped away, sprinting down the hallway. Outside, ordnance fell at an increased rate, with even higher yields than the largest explosive that the Royal Army had in their stockpiles anywhere, much less what was left here in Stalliongrad. The group turned another corner, still barreling along down the passageway. While they had destroyed the staircase, there was at least one other that went to the ground floor, which would allow them access to the relative safety of the armory, a hardened room where they could hole up and stay safe.

Hopefully.

Ahead, the two forward troopers smashed through another set of doors, opening up the hallway beyond to reveal an enormous hole in the ceiling, undoubtedly where either a mortar or a stray rocket smashed into the building. Chunks of concrete lay on the floor, and as Twilight picked her way quickly over the pieces (some as large as her head) she glanced up through the hole at the darkening sky, but couldn't see anything due to a combination of smoke and the darkness outside. Besides, it wasn't as if the gyrocopter was the thing chucking ordinance at them. She had heard enough weapons fire in the last twenty-four hours to know for a fact that there was a difference between shells and rockets.

Another door was shouldered open, and the group continued pummeling through. Ahead, the fire of the still blazing command center burned hungrily, devouring everything flammable inside. By now, the sickly scent of burning horseflesh had drifted through this hallway, and everypony began coughing and retching, even Major Di'ac and Sergeant Gunn. She felt her eyes burning and tearing up, realizing she'd left her goggles back with her helmet as she ducked low, desperate to avoid the smoke. Because of this, however, she noticed what nopony else had, in their haste to escape, and halted, staring into the room before her, jaw dropped and dumbstruck.

It was Colonel Eagle Eye! Here, in the radio room! What was he doing here?

"Hey!" she yelled, but her voice was drowned out by another blast, the others too busy trying to wrestle through the next set of doors. Cursing, she turned, stepping inside and coughing, harshly, trying to see where the hay she was going. At last, however, she finally reached the colonel, dropping to her knees and pushing at the larger horse feebly. When she couldn't get a response or turn him over, she automatically checked for a pulse in the neck. She felt herself exhale in unexpected relief as she found the heartbeat under her hoof. Still alive, then. For now, anyway. His wounds were so bad, a collection of burns and cuts that made her wince as she wondered just how the stallion had survived. It was a shame she knew no healing magic…

The mage realized that she could hear no radio traffic, and the mage perked her ears up before peering around the overturned table before her, bracing as another quake struck. Her first real look into the pit gave her a small shiver at the gloomy atmosphere of the room, completely dark save for the greens and blues of the various radio sets. Judging by the lack of corpses in the room all the operators had left before the dogs had come around. Then they were probably dead, if they'd gone out to fight as well.

Suddenly, a scuttering! There, under a counter! Twilight narrowed her eyes, glancing down at the colonel and realizing he wore a gun-yoke. Leaning down, she carefully took it off him, wincing at the burnt flesh still stuck to it as she slid the weapon on, adjusting the rifle to her size.

A clatter of hooves on concrete suddenly sounded behind her, and what meager light was being cast from the hallway was blocked as Short was suddenly filling the doorway. "Twilight! Let's go!" he hissed, glancing around the dark room. "The radios are all useless except for the wireless, and nopony's talking!"

"Shh!" she snapped back, eyes carefully tracing over the shadows before her. "I thought I heard something…"

Carefully, oh so carefully, she crept into the pit, rifle up and aimed into various corners. Catching on, Short followed as well, his own rifle pointing in the other direction to watch her back. He stepped so carefully, the loose bullets he had in his rifle barely clanked in the box magazine.

The creature had been rather small, so she supposed it could have been a rat. It had seemed larger than a mere rodent, though, but not large enough to be a dog, not even a smaller breed. As she finally found herself in the center of the pit, Twilight oriented herself so she was looking at the panel from whence the movement had first come, creeping forward towards it, her mind working and her hooves stumbling as another quake rocked the ground. Short stepped up beside her, rifle up and at the ready.

"Check underneath," he whispered, eyes still flitting from shadow to shadow. "I got your back."

Taking a deep breath, the purple mare slowly descended to her knees, squinting as she looked under the panel, trying to peer through the darkness. However, she got her answer at last as a familiar voice murmured "Twilight?"

"SPIKE!" she yelped, snapping up straight and slamming into Short, who had started to turn at the sound of a voice. Needless to say, the impact caused them both to fall over backwards, Short on his back and Twilight belly down on top of him, right in the center of the radio pit. As soon as they both got their wits about them, however, they each realized just what a compromising position they were stuck in, muzzles only inches away.

"Uh…" she started, unsure of how to continue. Fortunately, Short had at least part of his faculties about him.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Turned and…and well…"

"Yeah…"

Unlike before, however, the two of them didn't separate for several long seconds, just staring blearily into each other's eyes…

Before Spike, having crawled out from under the panel, cleared his throat loudly.

"Can this wait until later?"

* * *

><p>"So no one's left alive but us?"<p>

"Pretty much. There's maybe another twenty or so just ahead, and about five, maybe ten trapped downstairs in the armory. That's where we're heading right now."

Twilight stopped talking as another blast went off, shaking the whole building again. "Where –did- they get artillery?"

The colonel had a leg hooked over both her and Short's shoulders, dragging the unconscious commander down the hallway. Judging by the fact that there was nopony ahead, the group had moved on without them, eager to reach the shelter of the armory. Short was keeping quiet, his eyes hidden once more behind tactical goggles. Twilight, on the other hand, finally felt something buzzing through her other than fear and despair, something that seemed to tingle a little where Short had touched her. She didn't feel it where Eagle Eye's leg was draped over her, and it was beginning to concern her a little.

Spike glanced back at Twilight, in the lead to keep watch for anymore fires. His expression was one of confusion, even under the chars on his scales. "Artillery? You-oh, no. That's not the dogs, and those aren't cannons."

"What?" asked Short, breaking out of his stupor with a dumbfounded tone. "You're kidding. That's not us, I know we don't have anymore heavy artillery around."

"No! It's the Matriarchy."

Twilight stopped abruptly, forcing Short to do the same lest the colonel fall from his shoulder. "Wait, the griffons are here?"

"Yeah!" Spike nodded enthusiastically. "I heard one of the surviving Pegasi talking about a mobile airbase over the city. The griffons are bombing the manure out of the Industrial Sector to get rid of the dogs, starting with the storehouses and the garrison!"

"Explains why they're getting closer," Short remarked, heaving Eagle Eye onto his shoulder again with a grunt. "Let's go, pick up the pace!"

* * *

><p><span>71st Royal Army Battalion, 1st Company<span>

Forward Positions, assisted by elements from 2nd Company

Golden Ox Hotel, Dining Room, 1st Company Field HQ

"Yes, Colonel Coldheart, I understand…yes ma'am, I am quite aware that you outrank me…What?...yes, ma'am…ma'am, I understand that, but I must respectfully request that you stop your bombing and shift all your attention to the harbor…no, Lieutenant Colonel, we're holding out just fine…"

Captain Sanders groaned impatiently into the headset connected to the wireless radio, and Lieutenant Dandelion bit her lip, hard, trying to work out what the griffon commander might be telling him. The fact that the Matriarchy had effectively taken over the entire battle and all Royal Army remnants was bad enough, but they'd also gone ahead with an extensive heavy bombing campaign from their mobile airbase over the Industrial Sector without even consulting to check for survivors!

Sanders sighed again, a hoof rubbing at his eyes. "Ma'am, listen to me, please. There is a submarine that we greatly suspect belongs to the Hegemonic Fleet…well, when did you last send scouts to the harbor?…that explains it, ma'am. My lookouts tell me the sub's been in the harbor for almost half an hour and it's docking with the cargo ship _Pride of Ottopaw_…Uh-huh, the one we suspect…Yeah, it's a Beluga Class…well, we suspect she's probably taking on cargo from the ship or offloading more troops…what?...Oh, it's right here, hang on." Sanders pulled the photo over, squinting at the numbers on the conning tower, trying to discern what the hay they might be. Dandelion cleared her throat, and the captain glanced up at the mare, frowning before she started mouthing the code. Once Sanders caught on he nodded, turning back to the mike. "Okay, I've got the numbers. Ready, Colonel?...It's CNV-1108, that's Celestia November Valentine, dash one-one-zero-eight. You got that?...Great. Okay, yeah. REA Seven-One Alpha, out."

With that, Captain Sanders pushed the headset off, letting it clatter to the floor as he sighed, his head following the pattern, setting his forehead against the radio pack. He remained like this for several minutes, and Dandelion bit her lip even harder. It had been the captain's intent to convince the griffons to stop bombing the Industrial Sector and concentrate on the developing situation at the harbor, but from what the lieutenant had heard, Sanders had just been bulldozed by senior rank and the general not-give-a-care-about-the-lower-echelons attitude that this Coldheart seemed to exhibit.

Fitting name.

Finally, Sanders raised his head, his expression cross. "Uh…I take it the Lieutenant Colonel wasn't in the best of moods, Captain?" Dandelion asked, nervously. She'd been figuratively tiptoeing ever since her earlier outburst, and wanted to make sure Sanders wouldn't try to replace her with Cotta. That self-absorbed…

"No," Sanders replied dully, his voice monotone. "She didn't even take me seriously, just said she'd look into the situation. That, in layman's terms, means she doesn't care and will keep doing what she wants till the cows come home."

* * *

><p><span>Army Garrison Ruins<span>

71st Royal Army Battalion (Remnants)

Garrison Armory

"There you are! Was wondering if we'd have to launch a search party!" Master Sergeant Marigold looked no less for wear as Twilight, Short and Spike pulled Colonel Eye inside. The second they were over the threshold, two troopers on either side of the door slammed the reinforced steel shut, dead-bolting it and taking up positions around the entrance.

Twilight had to admit, cramped as the armory was with thirty or so ponies crammed inside, it definitely felt a lot safer than the upstairs hallway, despite the danger of dogs burrowing underneath. Outside, the griffon bombardment continued, unhindered, as the ponies moved around in the dim light from the single battery powered lantern hanging from the ceiling. Weapons and ammunition were being passed around, damaged equipment swapped out for intact counterparts and what wounded there were being treated by the single medic there.

"Everypony okay?" Twilight asked the overburdened earth pony stallion, huffing as they dragged the colonel over to the triage area. The white medic, splattered with blood from his patients and ash and mud from the horrific scene outside, snorted as he set to work on Eagle Eye.

"If you count 'okay' as numerous fractures, bullet wounds, second and third degree burns, hypothermia, severe mental trauma and dehydration being the norm, then yes. Everypony's okay." He pulled Eye's vest off, whistling quietly at the wounds he found along his commander's chest. "Dang. The Colonel's pretty thrashed."

"Will he make it?" asked a nearby voice, and all five of them assembled nearby turned to acknowledge Major Di'ac, staring down at Eye's wounded form with an emotionless face. The medic nodded, turning back to his work as he reached for the half-empty tube of burn salve.

"Yes. If I concentrate and he manages to stay strong, I should be able to patch him up and get some fresh blood into him in time."

Di'ac let out a soft sigh, still staring down at the Colonel, not saying a thing.

Twilight, however, didn't have time to beat around the bush. She pushed past Short, finally squaring up to the larger mare. "Major, I have some urgent news that you need to be aware of and must act on immediately. Where's Corporal Drab?"

* * *

><p>(And I will see you all next week!)<p> 


	14. Chapter 14: Cascade

(Dun-dun-nah-nah! Welcome, fillies and gentle-colts, to the endgame of Guardians! I can honestly say that's it's primarily thanks to your support and ideas that this story has stayed alive as long as it has, keeping me in high spirits and all of your cravings for soldier pony satisfied!

Now, a few announcements before we begin:

Chapter 15 will be coming out -next- week. The epilogue will come out the week after.

Unfortunately, the first chapter of Ceasefire will not come out the week after that. I'm setting a new standard and high bar for Ceasefire where I can promise that each chapter will be approximately twice as long as those you see here in Guardians. That means anywhere from 5000 to a whopping eight or ten -thousand- words per chapter, simply because I have so many ideas and so much to cover.

This means, however, a slower update schedule because of my job and school responsibilities. I have bills to pay and college to attend like everypony else, y'know!

Now, onto the good news! I can guarantee that Chapter fifteen will be the -largest- chapter I have ever written for Guardians, larger even than this one! The Epilogue will be as long as it needs to be, but with the last actual part of the story I intend to -really- put the screws to it and stuff as many details and events as I can for your reading pleasure!

Also, I have been approached by a few writers interested in collabs and side-stories, and already one has been published. If you haven't read it, go see it now. It's called Operation: Pony Express by GBscientist, and while it consists of a short one-shot it is a good tie in to the second story. It goes on at the same time as Guardians, and GB has told me he wants to upload it to ED. But that's not the main point, the main point is that if you have a collab idea or a side-story you wish to publish or bring up, feel free to PM me. I'm usually pretty accepting and give all ideas a thorough look over before I decide what to do. So yeah...

Anyway, **Responses!**

**DoctorWhooves**: while Equestria does indeed require advances, Twilight seems to me to be more of the magic expert, so you will certainly see her acting in an advisory role to the Magic Corps, but technology doesn't appear to be her forte...to me, anyway.

**paxtofettel:** haven't seen you in a while! Glad to see you sticking around!

**Vivvav:** kind words, and I always thank kind words!

**Nightmare Luna:** too many varied comments to answer right now, my dear. Thanks to my blathering, people are probably not even reading this part (lol jk. I know you guys will read -everything- I put up!) but I will answer one point. I did want to put a name and face to the puppetmasters pulling the strings, and Boxer was perfect for this role. He's sly, manipulative, and as you will see below, he's not afraid to wield his authority and knowledge like an axe.

**The Socialist:** I know, maybe pointing out that comment was a bit tactless, but you have been making a few other political comments in some of your reviews. That's all. Otherwise, thanks for the praise, you've been here since the beginning, so I can't fault you too much.

And now, here we go!**)  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Guardians<strong>

**Chapter 14: Cascade**

Stalliongrad, Northern Equestria

Matriarchy Armed Forces, 4th Airborne Division

Mobile Airbase 16, AKA "Artemis"

Over the Industrial Sector, Engaged in Bombing Operations

"Colonel Coldheart! I'm getting a radio transmission from the ground!"

To say that Harriet was annoyed would be putting it lightly. She'd been deep in discussion for the past half hour, even as the bombs began dropping, debating their next move. Though the 4th consisted of several thousand hardened and able griffon soldiers, they could only cover so much of the city. They would need to decide where to place the majority of their strength in order to contain the dogs where the bombs could kill as many as possible. They only had so many, after all.

To say Captain Gilda Axeclaw was her preference for a second in command was to tell a blatant lie. Axeclaw's personal ambitions and goals for glory came with an immense drive and will, but also an immense arrogance and sense of self-importance. Like many other officers, Gilda seemed to only be using her service in the Legion to advance herself in society. Academy, to Officer Candidate School, to the Airborne Legion. Such a rapid chain of events that shaped the unsavory, if capable, soldier before her.

But enough thoughts of unwanted baggage. Harriet Coldheart turned, stalking over to the rail of her command dais and leaning against it, purposefully ignoring Gilda's irritated growl. "What have we got, Specialist?"

Ranks in the Matriarchy worked differently from Equestria ones. Though a lot was borrowed from the ponies (the griffons' military structure loosely based off their royal counterparts) there were many differences. Instead of corporals, they had specialists. Instead of sergeants, they had wardens. The woman before Coldheart, Specialist Gale Windheart of the Heart Clan, was Harriet's own niece, albeit from another family of the clan. Still, she did not have any room inside of her for special treatment (nepotism was rife in the Matriarchy), and Gale oftentimes found herself on the lash of Coldheart's sharp tongue, simply to reinforce that the lieutenant colonel wasn't doing her niece any favors.

"Picking up radio signals from the garrison. Hang on, I'm still tuning to get the best quality."

"Don't worry about quality, Specialist. So long as we can hear it, it's good enough. Put it on speakers."

Windheart glanced over at her aunt, pausing only briefly before nodding, turning to the radio set before her and, after a few more minor adjustments, reached for the speaker set. Griffon radio technology had evolved past the point of squadron radio packs, and instead distributed short-range headsets to every soldier, just like the Canids up north did. This freed up the largest radio for long-range communications instead of sending messages between units, so the single radio on the table was the only large piece of communications equipment on the whole of Artemis.

"Putting it on speakers."

The room was suddenly filled with the static-ridden hash of the radio call, from somewhere down below the heat and dust and snow interfering with the signal. It sounded like a male pony, a stallion, and he was hurriedly calling out whatever message he had to send.

"_-is Corporal Drab of the 71__st__ Royal Army Battalion, Equestrian Armed Forces to the Matriarchy airship above! Cease bombing operations, we have survivors and wounded down here! You're going to kill us all! I don't think they're listening Major!"_

_ "Try again, you must, for if you don't we'll be pounded to dust."_

"Wait a minute…" said Gilda, stepping closer and listening harder. "That's a zebra! They're the only ones I know lame enough to rhyme all the time!...uh, ma'am."

Coldheart finally pulled her narrowed eyes off of the captain, turning to Windheart and asking "Is there anyway for you to check its authenticity?"

The Specialist shook her head, feathers ruffling slightly. "No, Colonel. The call was sent out on an open channel, so anything could have made it. I'm getting back radio codes associated with the 71st, though."

Coldheart paused, considering the situation at hand. The 4th had been provided with the portfolio from Canterlot Army High Command of the contingency wireless codes that Colonel Eagle Eye used. But those had been filed a month ago, and given the current state of the battle, the diamond dogs could have compromised communications. Just because something –sounded- like a pony didn't mean it was. On the other hand, if she ignored them and continued bombing, lots of innocent creatures could get hurt. But if she continued anyway, no one would find out.

"No," she finally said, moving away from the console. "We have no way to confirm if they are who they are, and any authorization codes could have been discovered at the garrison. Better to keep going, full steam ahead."

Just as Harriet was about to step away, however, that damnable Gilda spoke up, out of turn as always. The captain never did seem to realize that military procedure was there for a reason, and that reason was obviously not so it could be ignored. Coldheart bristled as she realized that no matter what she did, Gilda Axeclaw would never respect her betters.

"Hold on…I do remember that the Royal Army battalion's Two-I-C was a zebra. A Major Zo Di'ac, if I'm picturing the briefing correctly." She smirked smugly at Coldheart's glowering form, inspecting her claws casually. "The dogs wouldn't know that we know, and they aren't exactly smart enough to rhyme –all- the time. I think we've got our confirmation right there."

Lieutenant Colonel Coldheart had disposed of many rivals before. Idiot women who tried to move ahead of her just because it was the next rung in the ladder. But, as she swung back to hear Gilda's argument, she realized that for the first time she was considering getting rid of an underling.

* * *

><p><span>Stalliongrad, Northern Equestria<span>

9th Hegemonic AOT (Advanced Operations Taskgroup)

Current Mission: Espionage and Resource Retrieval

Dorsal surface of Hegemonic Fleet Submersible CNV-1108 _Seawolf_, Docked with _Pride of Ottapaw_

"Garret, shut up."

The Fleet officer stared, dumbstruck, as the ex-Marine turned special forces brushed off everything he'd been saying. Commander Michael Garret was a seasoned veteran, a dog who had worked his way up through the ranks. He'd –earned- this position, dammit! And that meant not being bossed around by those who were not only underneath him in rank, but also of a different branch.

"Wha-how –dare- you?" the Corgi spluttered, raising a small paw in indignation, claws wrapped in a fist. "You can't speak to me like that, I outrank you!"

"Actually, according to the Command Authority Amendment from ten years ago, all operations in which a special forces operative of the rank lieutenant or higher is present fall under the purview of the Black Ops," Boxer replied calmly. The Major was inspecting his own claws now, the cigar clutched between them. "President Chewchill himself suggested it after a wolf blocked him from an assassin's bullet, after the local Fleet officers ignored the wolf about potential sniper angles."

President Winston Chewchill. Now there was a tub of mixed grease if ever there was one. Chewchill loved to love himself, and as such spent most of his time lounging around, smoking cigars, drinking brandy, chewing on the finest bones and attending social galas from one end of the Hegemony to the other. But while it was fair to say that Prime Minister Mation ruled supreme in matters military and foreign, Chewchill clutched his power of internal affairs and the economy itself with an iron paw. Which was the main reason Mation even listened to the President at all.

And now, the luxury-loving bulldog was the reason Major Boxer was stepping onto the sub, whistling lightly as Hegemonic Marines streamed out past him and the black-clothed wolves behind him, both of which were silent. How such a brash and carefree dog had reached the rank of Major, much less entered the Black Ops, was a mystery to Garret, but he didn't care enough to ask. Right now, he just wanted Boxer out of his sight.

"Alright, fine! What do you want, Major?"

Boxer grinned widely, exposing a set of perfect, sharp teeth that meshed together without a hint of a gap between them. He looked the very essence of a predator about to enjoy an easy meal; satisfied, yet bored that there had been no chase to catch it. The look sent an unexpected chill down Garret's spine, and he didn't know why. He'd battled sea dragons and hydras, after all. A single special forces operator shouldn't…shouldn't…

"Have we heard back from Captain Frost yet?" Boxer asked, his face resuming its normal amused passiveness. Garret snapped himself back to the present, shaking his head and replying "No. But the gyrodynes only left a few hours ago from the Recalcitrant. She's still waiting thirty-five miles out at sea, where the Royal Army Harbor Watch can't find her."

"Recalcitrant…Packmaster class Gyro-Carrier, correct?"

"Correct. She's set to receive the cargo from Frost's team, as well as yours."

"Well, Commander. You have two choices here, for I'm not leaving behind one scrap of cargo. You can either make a few trips, or get on the horn to Recalcitrant and ask her for some muscle."

* * *

><p><span>Stalliongrad, Northern Equestria<span>

Matriarchy Armed Forces, 4th Airborne Division

5th Battalion, 1st Company, Salamander Squad

Industrial Sector, Mining Guild Mineral Refinery

Warden Tempestia Bravencrest could brag about her veterancy. She'd served in two foreign wars, both of which were complete successes for the Matriarchy, and had the honor of wearing the Remembrance Cross for recovering dead soldier's ID tags and returning them to base at the risk of her own life. She'd scored top in her Weapons Handling test scores time and time again, and was fit as a fiddle, muscles and sinews tight like a drum, mind as sharp as a steel trap. Power-Jumping (what the Legion called flying over obstacles with just enough power to make it look like one giant leap) came naturally to her, and her skill in close-combat was so extreme that she could gut any opponent before they had a chance to react to her first blow.

Bravencrest could brag for hours. Any other griffon, hell any other –creature- would. But not her. She wasn't proud of her achievements at all. The things she'd seen, the things she'd –done- disgusted her beyond belief. She didn't want to serve anymore, but a military term in the Matriarchy was a full ten years, a long-term commitment to the empire (oh, they might not have called themselves that anymore, but she knew that's exactly what they were).

For now, at least, there was no fighting. Her squad was holed up in this refinery, having just cleared it of dogs and ordered to remain here to maintain the perimeter while the bombing went on further to the south. It was a traditional griffon tactic, use numbers and maneuverability to force your enemy into a corner and then smash the daylights out of him with as much heavy ordnance as can be brought to bear. Bravencrest could attest to seeing it's immediate effects come through with some measure of success, for it made morale drop instantly and the enemy surrendered nine times out of ten. But there would be no surrender here…

"_Salamander One Actual, do you receive?"_ That was Bravencrest's wireless, a headset that covered half her head, letting her hear radio calls from her superiors. All Airborne soldiers in the Legion wore them, and it allowed for greater tactical flexibility and speedy deployments without the need for the pause to confer. While Canida did have this technology as well, they rarely used it to its full potential, preferring to keep their soldiers in tight formation. Equestrian soldiers, at least, could work around their handicap, it seemed.

The warden reached up, keying her headset and replying "This is Salamander One-One, we're hearing you. Go ahead." The call would be from Artemis, either from an officer up there or relayed from her own commander's outpost in City Center.

_"Be advised, we're receiving radio chatter from the ground. Sounds like some Royal Army troopers survived in the garrison and need extraction. The colonel is rather doubtful, but is willing to look into it. The bombing will stop for five minutes, and you're the closest squad in the area."_

"Understood," replied Bravencrest, nodding even though the radio operator was nowhere close enough to see her. "We'll find them. We'll pop a blue flare for pickup and a red flare if it turns out to be a ruse."

_"We'll be attaching Ironwind 6 to give you support. Good luck, Salamander."_ With that, the line went dead, and Tempestia let out a huff of a sigh. Five minutes to get to the garrison, easily a mile away. That wouldn't give them much time to search, but it was better than nothing. But the needed to move fast, and they needed to move now.

"Alright, form up!" she called out, hefting her LSG-41 and grunting at the ammunition. While the magazine-fed automatic shotguns were the most famous and standard issue for Airborne Legionnaires, supporting weapons for being on the ground were a needed piece of kit. The Light Support Gun was an automatic rifle with a big magazine, meant to suppress enemy forces and let other Legionnaires with more accurate weapons get the shot they needed. Around the sergeant, her five squad mates assembled, ready to go. She sighed as she looked upon them, wishing (not for the first time) that she had her old squad from Kodiak. They'd been a crack team, a lethal machine of weapons, wings and claws. Only problem was, she'd gotten the Remembrance Cross because of them. Hard to give orders to dead women.

"Alright, ladies! Lock and load, check your shit and your sights! We're going in, and we're going in hard and fast. Word is there are survivors holed up at the Royal Army Garrison, a mile south of here. We are to move out in Jump order, secure the area and ascertain if the call is genuine. Watch your corners, keep your teammates in sight and whatever you do, don't freaking waste your ammo. Fire in short bursts, I'm not gonna say it again."

She could see the looks of eagerness in these young recruits' eyes, and knew her words would have no effect. Glory-hunting rookies always did things the stupid way, and she wondered which of them would get killed first and how many it would take before the rest snapped into line. Two? Three?

Regardless, she knew she'd have to hold the squad together, and so she turned, extending her wings and leaping high into the air, out through the hole in the ceiling they'd made to get in, out and up into the night sky. The district was a mess, with fires burning everywhere and choking the stars off with billowing clouds of smoke, obscuring the rest of the city from sight. That could also be because Stalliongrad's power supply had been destroyed as well, but she wasn't one for guessing.

As she reached the top of her Jump, Bravencrest glanced over towards the south, at one of the largest patches of light she could see around. According to reports from battlefield surveillance, about two hundred Royal Army troopers with air and magic support had stood their ground against thousands upon thousands of dogs, and almost won. But they hadn't, and the garrison was crawling with dogs right now. How a single squad with tank support was supposed to clear the place and extract any survivors was beyond her, but maybe these ponies were supposed to have something to do with it.

Bravencrest felt the pull of gravity, and pulled her wings in tight to increase her falling speed, slamming into a rooftop on her specially constructed shock-absorbing leg frames, designed to take and channel away all force from impacts, allowing Legionnaires peace of mind as they performed their Jumps. The rest of the squad fell in behind her, arranged in a crooked line with their weapons up. Three possessed scatter guns, while another held a marksman rifle and another had a single shot grenade launcher. Not a very heavily outfitted team, but apparently enough to get the job done, according to Artemis.

The warden took off once more for the second jump, feeling the cold air sweep through her feathers and fur. Her simple leather vest was lightweight on her frame, but she could still feel the ammunition and other equipment strapped to it weighing her down. At least they didn't carry heavy packs full of gear like the ground forces of other armies, she considered. She loved feeling the wind move past her like this, no control over where she landed as she free-fell towards her destination. It was the one thing she loved best about the Legion, the chance to fly around the world and see new places, feel different environments on her face…

As she came back to earth again, this time landing on top of a bakery, her headset crackled once more. _"Salamander, this is Ironwind 6. We just passed the marker, less than one hundred meters from the target, over."_

Featherweight light tanks were halftrack contraptions. With the quick guidance of a front set of wheels, powered by treads that could conquer any surface, they were able to tackle even the most inhospitable surface and come out on top, and they were fast to boot. The only problem, of course, was their thin armor and light cannon, barely sufficient to clear out infantry with. Put a Featherweight against even an Equestrian Crusader battlewagon (seriously? Battlewagon? Why couldn't they call it a tank like the rest of the world?) and the battlewagon would win. And yet, the Featherweight was the most commonly used armored vehicle in the Matriarchy…

As she took off again, Bravencrest replied "Roger, Ironwind. Keep a foot in the door; we're almost there, over."

Featherweights were crewed by four griffons, which at least kept the tank in working order. In those cramped conditions, however, movement was hindered by both close quarters and the griffons' wings. Tanker crews took extensive training not to unfurl their wings when they felt surprise or anger or any other strong emotion (avoiding what Pegasi slang designated a 'wing boner.' Honestly, how childish). In the distance, Bravencrest heard the cannon thump, followed by the explosion of the shell and the rattling of the machine guns. The dogs would be on that tank like…well…fleas on a dog. They had to get there and provide cover.

Fortunately, with Artemis no longer dropping bombs, the relative silence allowed her to pinpoint the sound of the tank over the chatter of infighting diamond dogs elsewhere in the district, and it was on her fifth Jump that she finally found herself splashing onto the muddy avenue next to Ironwind. She straightened instantly, LSG up and ready to go, expecting a wave of inbound dogs…

Only to find herself staring at an empty field. Ahead were piles upon piles of dog corpses, and beyond that were the ruined defense works of the Royal Army battalion. But there were no dogs charging them. Beside her, the guns of Ironwind were silent, steaming in the chill air as the temperature sapped the heat from their muzzles.

"Uh…Ward?" asked one of her rookies as the squad fell in alongside her. "Wasn't this place supposed to be swarmed with dogs?"

Bravencrest nodded slowly, tapping her fist on the side of Ironwind. In a moment, the hatch up top swung open, revealing the leather-cap clad head of the commander, a young one who squinted down at Tempestia with barely disguised irritation.

"What is it, Warden?"

"What the hell were you firing at? I can't see anything but bodies."

The commander shrugged, as if there was nothing to worry about. "Some scavengers. A few dogs were collecting weapons and ammo from the field."

The warden nodded, considering the situation before stating "Stay here and cover us. We'll go investigate."

Before the commander could answer, the sharp snap of rifle fire and the howling of several diamond dogs rang out, causing every soldier nearby to snap to, guns raised and ready. Ironwind's commander disappeared inside her tank, and the Featherweight lurched forward, rolling towards the destroyed gates slowly. Bravencrest didn't get on the commander for breaking orders, for she knew the situation had changed. She gestured to her team, and the squad fell in behind the tank, using it for cover as they hiked up the quarter-mile of killing field towards the garrison.

Up close, it was horrible on an unimaginable scale. Bodies (or pieces of them) were scattered all over the place, pony and dog both. Piles lay in and around the trenches, and other were tangled in the barbed wire defending these areas. Bunkers were split open, their guns lolling in the firing gaps. The Featherweight passed a destroyed battlewagon, it's barrel split open and peeled back like a banana, the burned corpses of its crew laying half in and around the wreck.

A squad of dead ponies lay next to the gates, established behind two sandbag embankments with heavy machine guns. At least two dozen dogs lay dead around these areas, and it looked as though the squad had run out of ammunition and were forced to hoof-to-paw combat before being overwhelmed and hacked apart. At least they took the bastards with them, Bravencrest considered.

Finally, they entered the garrison, but it was just as horrendous as the outside. An enormous pit was sunk into the center, taking the Pegasus service pad, an artillery position and an entire brace of mortars into the ground, where their crews and whatever other soldiers were left had been slaughtered.

"Poor bastards…" muttered the grenadier in her squad, peering down into the pit. Bravencrest had to agree, glancing up at the wrecked and still smoldering command center at the top of the fortress. These soldiers had been cornered, and from what she could see the fighting had been savage, fierce. The ponies had taken from the dogs until their last bullet was expended, but that still hadn't stopped the canines. Such a bittersweet victory, she considered. For the dogs, at least.

Suddenly, from inside the garrison, a rifle cracked again, followed by a short burst. Ironwind, which had to remain at the front gates, wheeled its cannon around, tracking the sound. The warden raised a hand, gesturing for the squad to move inside. Upon entering, however, she found the site of another carnage, this one wrested on the dogs. More piles of corpses were gathered around, laying on top of each other as if someone had thrown them into these positions. But there were no pony corpses to be found.

"Contact!" hissed a private, and the entire squad brought their weapons to bear as a single diamond dog stumbled around the corner, running for dear life. Upon seeing the griffons, however, he skidded to a halt, eyes wide and afraid. Very afraid. Before the griffons could do anything, however, another shot resounded through the hallways, splattering the dogs brains on the walls and sending its body flopping to the floor. Salamander squad braced themselves, waiting with baited breath. Was this another squabble between the dogs? Or were there really pony survivors still in the garrison?

There was the slow, methodic ringing of iron shoes on concrete flooring, and the squad tensed up even more. Whoever this pony was, they were vicious and lethal, showing that they had no mercy in them. Salamander squad needed to be on their guard around this trooper. But now the hooves were joined by another set, and another, and another. Four ponies? Not a squad, Royal Army doctrine stated that a full squad was nine troopers plus a sergeant. Then again, they'd been in some fierce fighting…

A tall, blue stallion strode around the corner, covered in head to hoof in grime. At first, the warden thought he was just a civilian, but she quickly realized that he was wearing winter battledress and blue body armor, his rifle yoke resting easy around his neck. He seemed unsurprised at seeing the griffons, and strode forward casually, stepping over the body of the dog he'd just shot. But he wasn't alone. Three others followed him, two earth ponies and a unicorn, all of them weary and battle-worn. Only the earth ponies were armed, however, and the unicorn didn't even wear a helmet.

"It's about dang time," said the blue stallion levelly. "Was wondering when you lot were going to stop bombing us and finally come rescue our sorry hides."

* * *

><p><span>71st Royal Army Battalion, 1st Company<span>

Forward Positions, assisted by elements from 2nd Company

Dawson Avenue, Receiving Survivors

To say that Sanders was shocked to see Major Di'ac was putting it lightly. To say that he was astonished to find Colonel Eagle Eye still alive and recovered enough to begin issuing orders from his stretcher was an understatement.

But to see the Army Sky Corps suddenly appearing on the horizon with a squad of large, muscular troopers in tactical body armor calling themselves RAIC troopers was too much for the captain, and when Major Di'ac asked if he would turn over command of the remnants to her he left her with it gladly. Let somepony else sort out this mess, he was getting some bucking sleep.

Twilight had to admit, the sensation of safety was overwhelming after a long day spent on the front line. 1st Company had done well for themselves, holing up here for so many hours. Now, with survivors being brought in from all over the city thanks to the griffons, their numbers had swelled to just a little over two hundred serving on the line, with a few hundred others being tended to in several small triage areas.

Still, as she lay tiredly on the steps in front of the Golden Ox Hotel and watched the proceedings, she knew this wasn't over. Celestia may have been a beneficial monarch and deity, but even saints knew where to draw the line. Somepony would pay for this, and Luna would be the one to extract Equestria's vengeance. For now, however, she enjoyed her first real taste of safety all day, the salty air from the harbor helping her relax and realize just how tired she was. She'd barely been awake enough to listen to the briefing by Captain Sanders, explaining about the sub and the ship. Even now, General Spitfire of the 89th was working with Colonel Eye and Captain Tabbs (commander of the RAIC squad) on a plan of attack, the higher ranking Wonderbolt deferring to Eye's superior knowledge of the city, the dogs and overland tactics. The three officers were in constant radio communication with Lieutenant Colonel Coldheart onboard the flying airbase, deciding on a plan of action to put the screws to the real enemy here; the Canid Hegemony.

Twilight could hardly believe what she was hearing. Why would Canida attack Equestria? Princess Celestia and President Chewchill had been on good terms only a few years ago, and there hadn't been any major falling outs since then. There had even been the idea brought up and considered of Canida downsizing their military, but of course that was out the window now. But a Fleet submersible in an Equestrian harbor wasn't much in the way of peaceful action. Worse, the griffon infiltration team that had been sent to sabotage the ship hadn't been heard back from yet, and they were thought to be dead.

Twilight reached a hoof up, rubbing at her eyes. She was tired, confused, thirsty and shaken. Her mind was a jumble and her focus so shattered right now she couldn't even conjure a simple glass of water or lift a sheet of paper with her magic. Spike, at least, was her anchor with reality. Amazingly, the little dragon had seemed to shrug off all the trauma of the battle, and was as chipper and efficient as ever, caring for Colonel Eye even as the commander tried to run the entire war from his bed with broken ribs. Then again, if you survive a rocket attack, she supposed there wasn't much else that could phase you.

The door into the hotel opened behind her, and she glanced up, away from the train of wounded troopers and medics moving back and forth up and down the avenue, to find Short standing next to her. Her heart seemed to skip a beat, and she blushed lightly, though she knew she shouldn't have. What was happening to her, blushing like a school filly every time a particular stallion walked by? She smiled, hoping he'd come out to chat.

"Twilight…you better come inside."

* * *

><p>"<em>We've identified the submersible as the <em>_Seawolf__,_" said Lieutenant Colonel Harriet Coldheart's voice from the wireless set Corporal Drab was operating on the dining room table. "_Our intel says she's supposed to be in the Howlifax Naval Dry-docks, due for a refit to become an Orca Class Attack Submersible again. Certainly she's not supposed to be on the other side of the ocean with a Marine escort in tow_."

"Then we can confirm that this is indeed a black op," said General Spitfire, resplendent in her blue uniform. Nearby, Major Soarin munched thoughtfully on a pie he'd undoubtedly smuggled in, and Colonel Surprise stood at the General's side, watching carefully and quietly. The Pegasus mare was the Wonderbolts' second in command, and from what Rainbow Dash had told Twilight she had the authority to command the entire 89th all on her own.

"But they've pulled up to that cargo ship. They're putting something onboard, and I don't like it," replied Colonel Eye from his cot, propped up into something resembling a sitting position by the stack of pillows behind him. The black stallion was a mess. Bandages covered his head and torso, his right foreleg was held in a sling and there were at least a dozen burns covered in salve that Twilight could see. It was a miracle the colonel was sitting up, much less giving orders!

As Twilight and Short walked in, her eyes snapped to the right, where Sergeant Gunn and Azure were waiting off to the side, at least marginally cleaned up. The commanders had called Victor Squad in to recount their various experiences out on the battlefield. Thanks to their testimony about the gyrocopter and a sniper named Quick Craft describing a Canid soldier she'd seen, the officers finally had all the proof they needed. Nearby, Major Di'ac noticed Twilight and shook her head, raising a hoof to her lips. Twilight understood, and slunk around with Short to join Gunn and Azure off to the side of the dining room, watching the proceedings. Gunn was as stiff and martial as ever, while Azure seemed to be barely staying awake.

"_We've gotten reports of Canid gyro-craft spotted heading inland. Whatever they're up to, the dogs aren't putting all their eggs in one basket,"_ said Coldheart over the radio, continuing the discussion.

"That means they need some kind of carrier craft," said Spitfire, musing over that briefly. "But that's beside the point. We need to stop that submersible. Colonel Eye, how many soldiers do you have combat ready?"

Eye opened his mouth to answer before a series of coughs escaped his lungs, ragged and wet, and he cleared his throat before he answered, in a hoarse and scratchy voice "Barely two-hundred with about thirty armored vehicles, and there's still a few thousand dogs in the city. I'd rather not compromise what little defense we have left in case they decide to push, General."

"Fair enough," replied Spitfire, frowning at the map of the city before her. "With the Pegasi from the 71st incorporated into the 89th, I have a thousand fliers. So far as I know, 4th Division numbers about seven thousand, right Colonel?"

"_Correct, General."_

"Captain, you have a full squad of commandos?"

Captain Tabbs had, for the most part, kept off to the side, his scarred face kept emotionless and his voice silent throughout the proceedings. But her stepped forward exactly three paces and answered "Yes, General. Ten stallions, ready to launch."

"Hmm…" Spitfire raised a hoof, rubbing her chin, and Twilight felt a pang of apprehension at the Wonderbolt's musings. Surely she could be asking about all these numbers because-

"Then it's settled. We'll use –our- overwhelming numbers and completely swamp those two ships with an aerial attack. So far as we've seen, they've got no anti-air defenses."

"_Beluga Class vessels are usually armed with only a deck gun, and the cargo ship has no obvious weapons. They pose no threat to us."_

"I don't like it," said Eye, straightening up a little and grimacing. "So far, the dogs, and I mean the actual soldiers here, have been very adept at identifying our weaknesses and nailing us where it hurts. I've been fighting their soldiers for nine hours, and I can honestly say that I don't think they would just leave the two ships they were supposed to be keeping secret completely defenseless. This is a trap. I guarantee it."

"Colonel Eye, while your council is useful, we have no data to suggest they are expecting a counter-attack," replied Spitfire neutrally. "In fact, we have shown no evidence to suggest that we know they're there, or that we have reinforced."

"Besides," piped up Soarin as he pulled out –another- pie (Where was he keeping them was what Twilight wanted to know) "What can they do against eight thousand fliers? They can't have more than a few hundred Marines and spec ops there with them, and we haven't sent any scouts out to tell them we're here."

"Yes, but-"

"_Honestly, the situation's too perfect for us to ignore. We've got the advantage in numbers for the first time all day, I say we use it."_

"Lieutenant Colonel, I-"

Abruptly, however, the meeting was interrupted by another source, this one an outside influence. The dining room doors flew open, admitting one very haggard looking Lieutenant Dandelion, her saddlebags stuffed with papers and a bundle clutched between her teeth, a wild look in her tired eyes. The two troopers guarding the door outside obviously hadn't stopped her, though she could have simply used her authority to boss her way inside.

"Colonel!...uh…General? Uh…" she balked, frowning as she tried to think of who to report to. Eye saved her the trouble by waving with his uninjured hoof. "Over here, Lieutenant. What is it?"

"We've got a problem, sir. Another ship is pulling into the harbor."

"What? Do you have photos?"

"No need, sir. You can look out the window and see it coming straight towards us."

* * *

><p>(Ain't I just a stinker? President Chewchill and Captain Frost are both the property of BGscientist, by the way. All credit to him.)<p> 


	15. Chapter 15: Endgame

(Holy crap...I've still got an adrenaline rush from writing this chapter! I was the one making it and I was still on the edge of my seat, people! Holy hell...

While I try to get over my shock, here's some **Responses!**

**paxtofettel:** thank you very much, pax, and I'm pleased that you've been with us since the beginning, right up till the end.

**Pete993:** honestly, I tried to make Guardians as simplistic and free-flowing as I could, but sometimes there's things that just can't be dumbed down. Glad you love it anyway, though.

**DoctorWhooves:** sorry, Doc. I need that epilogue to tie up everything, and it'll be coming out on update schedule, as well as with details for Ceasefire!

**Nightmare Luna:** you know, you can read a situation just perfectly. And its okay if you can't do a full review, it was pretty damn hot around here for awhile too.

**GBscientist:** I've always wondered if reviewers were mindreaders, or if they all simply conspired together to present every possible conclusion in their reviews and see what happened afterwards. I'm not sure which one you are, sir.

**The Socialist:** this chapter is over 18,000 words. Can you believe that? -I- didn't even believe it when I saw the word count!

**TharzZzDunN:** Now I'm wondering if I've got a cult worshipping me... O.o (jk)

**turdy1:** see, this is why you guys shouldn't give me good ideas in your reviews! Because then I'll use them and forget what -I- wanted to do! lol. Anyway, the thing with Spitfire is that she wants to get a little bit of glory, get some more fame to the Wonderbolts. It's not her fault, its the mentality from being a celebrity.

Oh, jeez...nope, still buzzing. Just...read your damn soldierpony!

* * *

><p><strong>Guardians<strong>

**Chapter 15: Endgame**

Stalliongrad, Northern Equestria

71st Royal Army Battalion (Remnants), 1st Company

Forward Positions, assisted by elements from 2nd Company and 3rd Company

Golden Ox Hotel, Dining Room, 1st Company Field HQ

There it was. Just like the Lieutenant said, looking up like some iron god of war. Twilight had never seen a ship so menacing before. Even though the cargo ship dwarfed it, the vessel was bristling with weaponry, from rocket batteries to conventional cannons to turrets that scanned the skies. It was long and slender, making good time across the harbor until it was practically within a stone's throw of the cargo ship, where it turned, presenting its port side to the harbor and dropping anchor.

"What…is that?" she whispered, eyes wide as she tried (and failed) to take in and accept the threat.

Almost as if the griffon was reading her mind, Coldheart's voice spoke from the wireless once more. _"That's an Assassin Class Destroyer. But what's it doing here is the bigger question."_

"Perhaps a little less melodrama next time, Lieutenant?" asked Colonel Eye from his cot, smiling over at Dandelion, who flushed as she realized just how her statement could be taken. "In any case, it's not good news. I've read about destroyers, they're built to be counter units, responding to anything that's in the water."

"Or the air," muttered Spitfire, cursing under her breath as she scowled out at the great vessel. Its prow and hull were knife-shaped, designed to slice through the waves and ram smaller vessels head on. "Typical! The dogs hit us with that big piece of iron when we have no maritime assets in the water!"

"Beg pardon, ma'am," Eagle Eye said, frowning as he tried to straighten up, grimacing as he bumped one of his broken ribs. "But the Harbor Watch isn't exactly a martial branch. They don't even get any combat training-"

"Yes, I'm aware. And how utterly useless!" the general snapped, turning towards the map once more, now ignoring the ship. "This changes our whole strategy. Unless we put that destroyer into the bottom of the harbor, we'll have no way to counter-attack. Then we might as well kiss victory goodbye."

"_It does pose a very large problem for us,"_ observed Coldheart over the wireless, her tone one of concern. The 4th was almost completely airborne infantry, after all, not the kind of force needed to take on a destroyer. _"Its arsenal is capable of taking out anything we throw at it, and we have no torpedoes or heavy artillery."_

"This is pathetic," Spitfire exclaimed calmly, pushing the map away. "Look at us, stalled by one single ship! It's just a boat! Surely we can take on –one- Fleet destroyer with eight –thousand- fliers!"

Twilight felt her face twisting in a grimace. It was a cold and heartless decision the general was declaring, but she supposed the Pegasus commander had a point. Victory here would only be won through overwhelming numbers, and right now that meant filling the skies with soldiers until somepony got through. She saw the general's plan perfectly, and knew that many hundreds, if not thousands more would die in the skies today before the battle was finally over.

What she didn't know was why Colonel Eye and Major Di'ac, being the two commanders in the room who had lived through the ravages of the fighting, weren't speaking out against such a plan of action. The major had been in that mess, after all, fighting next to troopers who'd battled just as fiercely and died to protect the city and all of Equestria, and the colonel…well, the fact that he was lying in a cot should have been all he needed to vehemently protest this plan!

Twilight stepped forward, mouth open and about to give her own thoughts on the issue when she found her progress halted. She glanced down, surprised to see a gray foreleg in winter battledress across her chest, and glanced up at its owner right next to her, an incredulous look on her face. "Short! What are you doing?" she hissed angrily.

The stallion in question wasn't even looking at her, but across the room! The indignity of it all, almost as if she was being ignored. But then he surreptitiously nodded, his eyes flickering back and forth for a moment. Twilight glanced over as well, frowning as she found herself looking at Major Di'ac, currently in whispered conversation with Colonel Eye. She frowned, her words of outrage dying as she tried to unravel just what the two might be plotting over there…

Abruptly, however, her attention was drawn back to the planning meeting as Soarin proclaimed "It's simple! Split our forces into four branches and attack from all sides! That way, we lessen the amount of casualties we take and guarantee that at least some of our flyers get close!"

"_Keep in mind the need for reserves. We might not succeed on the first try, and we should keep a backup force just in case a second wave needs to be launched,"_ Coldheart mentioned. Twilight clenched her jaw at the callousness of the situation. These…people, for lack of a better word, were only discussing casualties as a backup in case too many were butchered the first time! She couldn't believe how careless they all were of the lives they'd be throwing away!

Suddenly, Major Di'ac stood up straight, clearing her throat and coughing, once, to both clear the grime from her throat and get the room's attention. For a moment, only Colonel Surprise noticed, and turned to face the zebra. "Yes, Major. What is it?" Her voice was surprisingly soft, the kind of tone Fluttershy might have if she possessed a squick more confidence and authority about her. Twilight almost wondered if there was any relation, but realized that there was really nothing else similar between the Pegasi.

"I regret to inform that the Colonel needs to rest. I will take him to his room until he feels best."

Spitfire turned, her face mostly disinterested save for a frown, but she nodded. "Alright, Major. Get a squad together and take the Colonel to his room. His detachment is not part of this anyway."

Twilight had to bite her lip in order to swallow her anger at these words, feeling her rage brimming to the top. Rainbow Dash wanted to be like these…these…assholes? Spitfire was a stuck up, attention and glory-hogging snoot with no sympathy for those under her command, Soarin was lazy and incompetent and Surprise, for all her quiet, hadn't voiced a single complaint to the future slaughter, condemning herself along with her fellow Wonderbolts. Ooh, when Twilight got back to Ponyville, she was going to disillusion Rainbow Dash so much that-

That…

What was wrong with her?

She felt a nudge as Short's hoof poked her shoulder, and she glanced up at the grey stallion, looking down at her with some concern. "You okay?" At her slow nod, he frowned even deeper, but seemed to at least take her lukewarm reply in stride for now. "Alright. C'mon."

He stepped across the room, and Twilight realized that the whole of Victor squad had assembled around Colonel Eye's cot, Sergeant Gunn and Azure on the front corners, with Short taking the back. Major Di'ac stared pointedly at her, and in her fatigued state, the mage almost didn't understand. Surely she could grab the last one, right? They didn't need her to do anything…right? And besides, why get an entire squad to lift a single bed? It couldn't be good for Eye's health…

And then she realized exactly why the entire squad, and the colonel, were all staring flatly at her. With a squeak of embarrassment, she scampered over, sliding under the last corner with a muttered "Sorry, sorry…" and heaving her side up. Fortunately, between the four of them the black stallion wasn't that heavy, and they departed for the stairs quickly, leaving behind General Spitfire to carry out planning the slaughter that was about to unfold.

* * *

><p><span>9th Hegemonic AOT (Advanced Operations Taskgroup)<span>

Current Mission: Espionage and Resource Retrieval

Dorsal surface of Hegemonic Fleet Submersible CNV-1108 _Seawolf_, Docked with _Pride of Ottapaw_

"You called in a destroyer?"

Boxer turned to Garret, his face drawn up in a snarl as he drew closer to the smaller dog, a clawed paw going to his hip and the pistol holstered there. It was a J2F pistol, a hefty firearm meant to be held in a hand thanks to its grip, and the heavy-duty slide ensured that the recoil was absorbed straight into the frame of the gun, thus decreasing the kick of the big bullets. Unlike most diamond dog operations, this one had been carried out with modern weapons in bulk to the dogs, several thousand handguns just like this one spread throughout the rank and file alongside the modern rifles, all in the hopes that such high-end weapons would help to tip the scales even further in their favor.

Now, that gamble was wasted.

Garret stood before Boxer with no fear on his face, staring up at the taller dog with something akin to amusement. "Now now, Major. Surely you understand why I called in such a craft. The Howloween Night is perfect for holding this harbor. Thanks to her depth charges and flak guns, she can hold off all threats from sea and air, and the rocket batteries can pulp any land target in range. You said so yourself, there's no more heavy artillery in enemy hands, so the ship is relatively safe. To top it off, she has a large cargo hold when she's carrying light on ordnance, so most of her sea mines were taken out to make room. What more could you want?"

Boxer almost shot the arrogant little son of a bitch right there. Just put a slug right between the smaller dog's eyes and splattered what minimal brains he had all over the back of his own submarine. At least –he'd- tried to keep a modicum of secrecy even when he knew the jig was up, keep it at least in the realm of deniability. A submarine in the harbor was something that wouldn't hold up if no more than a few hundred saw it, but a full-blown destroyer on the other hand may as well be a declaration of war! Canida never issued a declaration because surprise was more valuable than strength (which, coupled hand in hand with the Hegemonic military's actual strength was quite a potent cocktail). And thanks to this idiot, many future plans of covert invasion of Equestria had been foiled. Years of strategic surveillance and dozens of deep cover agents putting together all the strings for the plots, and now they were all a waste.

Boxer paused for another second before exhaling, his paw sliding off his holster. No, he still needed Garret's naval expertise. He may be a former marine, but he had no clue what to do about flyers in the air.

"Commander, when this is all over, I hope you find yourself a nice, cushy position up high."

The Corgi smirked, obviously taking the compliment at face value and seeing it as submission. "Why, thank you, Major."

At least there, the idiot couldn't do as much damage there as he had here, Boxer thought. Out loud, however, he said "When can we start loading cargo onto the Night?"

"Immediately. Just need to find some way to convey it, and I doubt your gyrocopter can do such a thing."

Boxer grimaced. "If only we had one of those gyrodynes like Frost's team received…" He shook his head. The gyrocopter was the only craft small enough to fit on the Pride of Ottapaw, and the larger prototype gyrodynes were far too expensive to risk on such a doubtful operation. "We have several inflatable rafts on board. We've been using them to sneak personnel into sensitive areas and extract the gemstones from the harbor warehouses."

Garret raised a single white eyebrow. "Inflatables, eh? And how did you get the heavier metals and large parcels across?"

Boxer grinned again, exposing his canines to remind Garret who was truly top dog around here. "We have two Eel Class Patrol boats. They were hidden inside cargo compartments, but now we've just taken to concealing them on the other side. My wolves can have them ready to go in minutes, and then we'll be able to get the remainder of the cargo to the Night while she holds off the Griffons." He glanced down at the Corgi with a skeptical look on his face. "I assume the Seawolf will stick around until the operation is complete?"

"You expect us to do otherwise? I have fifty marines aboard, many equipped with bazookas, loaded with fragmentation shells. We can handle ourselves until the job is done."

Boxer nodded thoughtfully as the Night aligned her rocket arrays, letting loose the first volley of heavy munitions to land in the city. No target in particular was chosen, no target need be picked. All that was required was for the ponies to be kept off balance and the griffons distracted until the gemstones and precious metals were all safely aboard both military vessels. Then the two would both slip out of the harbor, away from this SNAFU of a mission.

And then, he'd bury Garret in paperwork and red tape once the Admiralty found out just who was responsible for the war that was sure to follow…or just literally bury him. Just as soon as they were back in Canida.

* * *

><p><span>Golden Ox Hotel, Room 21, Second Floor<span>

Twilight understood now why Colonel Eye had insisted on a second floor room, even though it was difficult to haul him up to. Thanks to the large window, he was afforded a grandstand view of not only the harbor, but also the dockyards, warehouses and factories that made up the portside district. Off in the distance, the cargo ship loomed like some enormous obelisk of metal, a tombstone on Stalliongrad's grave. Though most of the city was spared the destruction, the battle would drive thousands out and to the south, and many more would leave to find work while the factories were being rebuilt and machinery repaired. The city would never again be Equestria's sole industrial hub, thanks to the fact that most of its industrial might was leveled.

Nearer, the destroyer seemed to straddle the open expanse of the harbor, though it was actually smaller than Twilight had first thought. Its rockets were firing aimlessly, the rounds arcing lazily into random areas inside the city. Fortunately, none came too close to City Center or the Residential Sector, but 1st Company's fortifications were in danger, being close to the waterside.

Sitting between the two, the submersible was almost hidden by their combined bulk, almost an afterthought to underline the hectic day. The sky above was already beginning to grow brighter; a sure sign that daybreak was on its way, but not for many hours. And it was behind. Luna had already pulled the moon down earlier, but Celestia was late in bringing the sunrise. Twilight assumed this to be thanks to whatever diplomatic talks she was caught up in, but there had been no news of the outside other than what scant information that General Hurricane Spitfire had brought with her.

The panorama was lit by fires and lights, pointing out where the wrecks of many small fishing boats lay and where the mighty warship sat like a king on a throne.

"Quite a sight," remarked Eye as he yawned, grimacing as the action upset some injury or another. They'd all been pulling through the past day with little to no rest, and the colonel had to be the most uncomfortable of them all, swathed up in bandages and hopped up on various painkillers and antibiotics, coupled with a little unicorn magic (healing by spell casting often left the patient feeling dizzy and disorientated, a reason why a unicorn had to be extremely competent before being allowed into the medical community). "Take it in, troopers. Five minutes."

At this, Eye lapsed into another whispered conversation with the major, who bent her head low to hear him. You had to admire two figures of enormous physical and emotional strength, the ponies that had stood on the forefront and kept everypony going as long as they had. Sure, they'd hit some bumps and snarls, but sometimes that was unavoidable.

It occurred to Twilight that she hadn't written her weekly report to Princess Celestia on friendship. Yesterday she'd been wondering what to write it about, especially since she would be in Stalliongrad for the weekend and therefore away from her friends. Yet it had completely slipped her mind in the ensuing chaos (understandably, of course). However, even in this grim atmosphere, she suddenly found herself glancing around at Victor squad…her new friends.

Sergeant Gunn had removed his helmet, standing next to the window sill and watching the ships in the distance, his expression unreadable. The big stallion had stood as a pillar of strength for the squad, even when they'd taken so many losses and faced so many hardships. Nothing seemed to stop him when he had his mind set on a goal, and he had protected his squad so many times that he would have been considered a hero anywhere else in Equestria.

Nearby, Azure had a new recoilless frame laid out on the ground, checking the magazine saddlebags and carefully ensuring that the feed chain was oiled up to load the shells without any issue or danger of jams. Azure (Twilight only now saw that her last name was Cobalt, according to the tag on the back of her helmet) had shared the same kind of fortitude, a will to survive and carry on no matter what was tossed at her, yet the easy-going way she handled things seemed to conflict wildly with such an ideal. She kept her head cool under fire and her aim sharp even when things were going wrong.

And Short. Leaning against the wall, Short was busy digging something out of his shoe, not caring for the dirt or the grime all over him. According to his story and just watching how he'd acted, Twilight had experienced firsthand the heart and passion the young trooper put into everything he did, how he pushed himself to one-hundred and ten percent just to prove to himself that he had what it took. His courage had saved the purple unicorn countless times, and she knew that if a bullet came her way he would leap in front of it.

She felt that peculiar tingle down her spine again, a buzzing in her limbs and head as she watched the young stallion. She raised a hoof to her lips again, remembering the hasty kiss she'd planted on his cheek. She still didn't know why she'd done that, but a part of her was waking up inside, a part that she had long pushed aside by focusing on her studies and striving to reach her goals. But now, with those things out of the picture and her mind in such a mess, there was nothing to restrict such feelings…such longings…

Twilight quickly stifled that out. She was an academic, Princess Celestia's favorite pupil and a shoe-in for a professor at the Canterlot University for the Study of Arcane Sciences. She couldn't act like some village filly, blushing and flicking her mane every time some handsome stallion walked by. Attraction would only get in the way, especially here, in a war zone.

The student turned her mind to the topic at hand once more. Though she had no quill and parchment nearby, and Spike was still downstairs attending to the general, she could already feel a message coming on.

_Dear Princess Celestia,_ she began in her mind. _I know I was excused from writing a report this week, but I felt that, given the circumstances, I had much to learn from such an experience. Such tragedy and loss has been suffered all around me, but through it I have found a new kind of friendship; brotherhood. The knowledge that those by your side will always be there to pick you up when you fall, shelter you from harm and help you through the darkest of times. Brotherhood isn't just something that's found, it's something that's built, not just between stallions but also mares. Comrades in arms will always have a brotherhood, always be there for each other, always be strong for each other._ _And when comrades in arms can't be there for you, they are honored for all time for giving everything for that brotherhood, a solemn bond that is so strong as to even outlast death. In and of itself, that's another lesson; some friendships can last a lifetime, while others go on even longer. Your faithful student, Twilight Sparkle._

She wished Spike wasn't so busy serving the general so he could write this down and send it, bring back the only piece of her old routine she had left. Going back to Ponyville would never be the same again, she knew that now. She could never go back to the library and continue on like the world was a paradise. Outside of Equestria (and sometimes even inside of it) the world was a scary place. Her view on life had been forever colored over by today, and she knew that she would go back home a changed mare. Would it even feel like home again? Would she want to stay?

"Twilight?"

How strange. Short seemed to be out of focus to her, as if he was behind a pane of smoky glass from her. But his voice said that he was right in front of her. She could literally reach out and touch him if she wanted to. But she didn't. Not because she didn't want to, but she would do it not because she –did- want to…wait…she shook her head, already confused with her own thought process. It was only then that she realized, of course, that there were tears in her eyes, and she couldn't hold back a sniffle as she reached up, hastily wiping them away with an angry grunt. At first, she was furious with herself, crying for no good reason after everything she'd been through today. She'd been terrified, she'd screamed, she'd frozen up, she'd even killed, but not once had she cried at all. As she thought it over, however, she realized that with this being the first bit of time she had to think of the world outside and her old life, the tears poured effortlessly, as if she had lost all those things. It was kind of funny, really.

When she had finally cleared her eyes, she looked up to find Short standing nearby, helmet finally removed and a small smile of understanding on his face. "Hey, it's alright. You're with us right now. You're okay. You good?" She nodded quietly, and he nodded back in return, stepping away but not going far, standing at her side as the others watched her, looks of knowing (and satisfaction?) on their faces. All except one. Sergeant Gunn was staring blankly at them, his eyes tracing back and forth, and she realized she had yet to talk to the blue stallion, explain that she hadn't meant for things to get so complicated. Unfortunately, now wasn't the time.

* * *

><p>The colonel began the 'briefing' with a single statement to underline the purpose of such a clandestine meeting.<p>

"General Spitfire is a glory-hunting idiot."

When he found that there were no statements to counteract his own, he forged on, confident that Victor squad also shared this opinion. "She's come to the frontline personally. That much I can respect. But she's only here so she can get some claim to fame, live up the Wonderbolts personality. Her and Coldheart's current plan is going to get a lot of soldiers killed, Pegasus and griffon. All for some stupid ship. What she doesn't realize is that the destroyer is not the real prize. Whatever the dogs came for will be onboard the submarine, its almost guaranteed." He looked upon each of them at this point, staring solemnly and watching their reactions. "I'm about to give you a direct order that will countermand what Spitfire will want me to do. She'll tell me to remain in place and keep our ground forces dug in, make sure her flank is secure. I will be asking you to commit what is tantamount to treason, disobeying orders and abandoning your post. But I'm entrusting you, Victor squad, to do what I think you're more than ready for."

Suddenly, Major Di'ac snapped her head around, but Sergeant Gunn had already beat her to it, his rifle up and pointed out the window, towards the skyline. Except that the skyline was now obscured by a large, winged figure, one that took up the majority of the space and stalked forward on two legs. At first, Twilight wanted to panic dash around and scream her head off. Surely it was one of Coldheart's soldiers, ready to report them all for insubordination! But then the rational part of her mind realized that Coldheart was far too busy to send spies. She had a glorious charge to prepare, after all.

"What's this?" asked the figure, stepping into the room and finally illuminating themselves enough to reveal a familiar face to go with the voice that Twilight knew she'd heard before. Gilda chuckled as she fell to all fours, her shotgun's barrel scraping the floor. "Sheesh, you can tell your guard dogs to lay off. I just heard something interesting and thought I might investigate."

"And you are?" Short snarled, eyes narrowed as he took a step forward. The griffon rolled her eyes, mockingly. "Oooh, a pony trooper! I'm so scared! Screw off, horsemeat! I'm going back-"

"Gilda, wait!"

The griffon captain paused, wings outstretched, as she peered back towards Twilight, a smug smile on her beaked face. Her wings came down, brushing against her padded leather vest. "Well, well. Twilight Sparkle, here in the middle of the shit. Would you imagine that? I thought you were too bookwormy to even think of –looking- at a firearm, much less picking one up…though I see you aren't even wearing one." The smirk grew even more. "So why are you here…hmm."

"Why I'm here isn't important. You must have come here for a reason, Gilda. You didn't just hear us at the window."

The captain frowned, scoffing as she knew she was found out. "You and your lame friends, always robbing me of my fun. Fine. I thought the good Colonel here might be attempting something behind the scenes after the fuss he put up over the radio." Colonel Eye glared at Gilda, his secret plan already in danger of ruination by some loud-mouthed, blustering flying lion. Beside him, Major Di'ac quietly cocked her rifle, watching the situation carefully. Gunn and Azure silently moved behind Gilda, trapping her in a rough circle, in case she tried to escape or fight her way out. Gilda continued on, oblivious of her immediate danger as she said "So I came down here to get in on it. Coldheart isn't afraid to kill off political enemies, after all, and when she made a small mistake and I corrected her for it, I knew she'd want to get rid of me too. This stupid strike is exactly what I need to humiliate the good lieutenant colonel so badly that she'll be off my back and out of my way forever!" Gilda grinned again, up on two legs, obviously trying for size factor. "How's that?"

Twilight watched her for a second, her face blank before she too scoffed, stepping closer to the griffon. "A good story. But here's what I think." Here, she kept striding forward, all the way until she was practically muzzle to beak with the surprised woman. "I think you showed off too many times, and when the good lieutenant colonel made her screw-up, you showed her up and made a big deal about it. Now, Coldheart wants you gone because she's had enough of your manure."

"Now just hold on a second, you little sl-"

"Furthermore!" Twilight continued, her tone harsh and her expression hard as she slowly began backing Gilda towards the wall. "I think you're scared! Scared of Coldheart's resources and the ease it would take for her to simply sweep you under the rug as if you never existed! So you decided to cruise around here, hoping to find Colonel Eye so that you can get a lifeline and keep yourself from going down!"

"Look, that's how it may be to you losers, but-"

"And so you're so desperate to find something to prove Coldheart wrong, you'll even go behind her back to find some flaw in her plan so humiliating and so horrendous that she'll have to fight simply to stay afloat with her career!" At this point, Twilight felt no remorse or guilt in her heart, unleashing her pent up frustration, confusions and emotional whip lash on the arrogant griffon. She'd backed Gilda right into the corner and down onto all fours, her face barely inches away. "Therefore, you need us oh so badly, but we –don't- need you! Stop playing like you're the superior one, Gilda! We can deny everything and get away with it, while you're on a time clock thanks you your pride and your stupid screw-up! Now sit down, shut the buck up, and listen if you want to save your hide!"

She huffed, backing off to give both of them some space, breathing heavily as she glared down at the dumbfounded expression on Gilda's face. She still felt furious, enraged and upset, but she also had the sensation of lightness, as if a great weight had just been removed from her chest and she'd been given a pair of wings. It felt good, she realized, to finally get everything out in the open. The tears earlier didn't seem so shameful anymore. One way or another, she was getting back home, even if she was never the same because of it.

Twilight turned away, still huffing as she stepped back to her previous position, next to a flabbergasted Short. A quick glance around the room showed that (aside from Major Di'ac, who hadn't known much about Twilight beforehand) everypony else held the same expressions, even Sergeant Gunn, whose jaw stretched towards the floor.

"Um…yeah…I needed that."

* * *

><p>Colonel Eye began the briefing again, albeit watching their newest squad member carefully. He didn't hide it either, which made Gunn wonder how much the colonel wanted to keep this hidden and how much he wanted General Spitfire to actually find out. Surely it would flip the yellow Pegasus' lid if she knew what was going on.<p>

"It's simple, troopers. The general believes charging the destroyer with everything we've got is the answer to our problems. Major Soarin is going to go along with whatever she says, and Colonel Surprise down there won't voice a single complaint either unless it has a remote chance of failure. These are Wonderbolts we're talking about here, the Air Force hasn't been in live combat in centuries and I don't think the 'Bolts themselves have either. In other words, they're just as fresh as rookies, no matter how much training they've received. So she's going with what seems right by the numbers, and Coldheart doesn't strike me as the one to give much care for the safety of her soldiers. But I can see the real picture, and so can the major here."

He looked around at each of them, eyes carefully scrutinizing their faces, looking for any shadow of doubt. Gunn knew that Victor squad was the closest unit that could be called upon right now, and any orders or mass movement would trigger suspicion in the new command center. So his ragtag team would be the one to pull off the colonel's crazy mission, even as exhausted and emotionally drained as they were. But Sergeant Lock Gunn knew they were up to it.

"Alright, then. Here's the goal; I want that submersible. Either you capture the Seawolf or send her to the bottom, I don't care. Just don't let her leave the harbor. If she gets to the open ocean, we'll never find her, and Canida can say whatever they like and cause a huge international red-tape diplomatic screw-over that'll take years for us to get out of and finally point hooves at them. Nopony's listening to reason and the general's plan is just going to get a lot of soldiers killed. I've been yelling to get through red tape for years and just getting ignored, be it by High Command, Iron Star or even Caesar. The general doesn't want to include me, fine. So I'm going to do things my way this time."

Eagle Eye glanced out the window at this point, eyes narrowed at the two warships outside, sitting in the water like great, floating iron golems standing in the way of their victory. Gunn spared himself a second of laxity to look as well, feeling his hate rise once more. There was no question now that the Hegemony was behind it, but Canida could easily slip behind their wall of plausible deniability again if Equestria had no concrete proof, and a few hundred witnesses could be written off as a plot against Canida. Worse, the dogs might even try to spin it the other way around, as if –they- had been attacked instead.

"It won't be easy," Eye said quietly, and Gunn frowned, glancing at the colonel. Over the last decade he'd served, Gunn had never heard of any of Eye's plans falling through. Granted, most of his plans were for trapping outlaws and responding to border clashes, but the black stallion almost seemed exhausted, tired out, doubting himself immensely. But he didn't say these things. The colonel wasn't the sort for patronizing, and besides, he was still speaking. "You'll be heavily outnumbered, and I can almost guarantee your enemy will be far better armed than any you've gone up against already. But I know Victor squad can get it done. General Spitfire and Colonel Coldheart are giving us the perfect distraction, and once that sub's out in the water is where you'll catch them."

Now the colonel looked directly over at Sergeant Gunn, his face firm and his eyes full of grim determination and even…hope? "Sergeant, I believe this will help you out immensely. I don't dare speak of it in case Spitfire's agents are near, but you'll find what you need at Dock 13. Do get me?"

Of course! Why didn't he think of it himself! Dock 13's contents would definitely see them through the coming storm, even if it needed a little prep work first. He nodded, replying "Yessir, Colonel. I do believe so."

"Then good luck and Princess-speed to all of you, Victor squad," declared Colonel Eye, raising a hoof and saluting firmly, resisting the urge to grimace in pain. The squad automatically responded, backs held straight and heads high as they returned the salute, and Gunn felt a little bolt of joy at seeing Twilight herself honoring the colonel (and Gilda as well, though it took her a second to realize she had her claw to her chest at first in the Airborne Legion salute style) and they could finally make the real counter-attack that would end this battle at last.

* * *

><p><span>Matriarchy Armed Forces, 4th Airborne Division<span>

5th Battalion, 1st Company, Salamander Squad

Industrial District, Harbor Sector, Top of the Maximillion Company Storage Facility

"There you are," muttered Warden Tempestia Bravencrest as she squinted through her binoculars, eying up the destroyer in the distance. It wasn't too hard to spot, just follow the rocket smoke back to the great hunk of metal in the harbor. It was hard to imagine that the Hegemonic Fleet possessed fifty-two others like it, and impossible to picture the larger, more intimidating Mauler Class cruisers or even the Cerberus Class battleships. While Canida was definitely a power to behold on land, they made their presence felt in the water.

"We can take 'em," said one of Bravencrest's rookies to her side, and the Warden rolled her eyes. The brief firefights they'd had through the cities and the lack of losses in the squad had given the girls the confidence and swagger to boast loudly up and down the walls that there was no way Hippogryph could be defeated, even to the remnants of the Royal Army battalion. Needless to say, they hadn't received much in the way of positive reinforcement, but the girls just chalked it up to poor sportsmanship. After all, the Royal Army had failed where 4th Division was succeeding…despite the fact that the Equestrian troopers had been outnumbered almost ten to one and the police hadn't done much to even out the odds.

They had done an admirable job, to be sure, and the mongrels' numbers had been sliced by more than half even before the Airborne arrived, leaving little more than containment detail as the dogs finally broke down and feuded amongst themselves. But now, the majority of the division had been recalled from their encirclement of the Industrial Sector, thousands on griffons ordered to the harbor alongside the Pegasi of the 89th. According to latest intel, the detachment from the 102nd Royal Army battalion were only an hour away, which meant that the diamond dogs were Equestria's problem once more. Another two-thousand or so ponies with armored support might not seem like much, but thanks to the example set here by the 71st, it was easy to see that the diamond dogs –could- be beaten. It didn't help, however, that many griffon soldiers were bragging to the surviving ponies about how much greater the Airborne was than the Army, and even how their comrades had died in vain. If Lieutenant Colonel Coldheart didn't do something soon, there might be a shooting war developing between 1st Company and 4th Division.

Tempestia cocked her head as the sound of wing beats came to her ears, turning to witness a flash of color against the gloomy, smoky sky. Reinforcements? There was plenty of movement going back and forth through the harbor, both griffon and Pegasi, as units lined up in position for this idiotic charge. To think that the commanders of two armies were ordering so many airborne soldiers to take on a destroyer…it was suicide, in the Warden's opinion. Still, if she had some more guns at her back, she just might make it.

The figures in the air tilted down, coming in for a shallow descent towards her rooftop, finally breaking away from the dimly lit landscape to reveal ten or twelve figures, all of them ponies. The Pegasi slowly set down on the same rooftop as her, and she raised an eyebrow as they finally separated from the smoke. She'd been expecting some of General Spitfire's flyers from the 89th, in their crisp and clean blue flight suits (not as extravagant as a Wonderbolt, of course, but definitely a sight more practical). But these Pegasi were filthy, their attire torn and their full-body armor pitted, scarred and in some places just plain gone. She turned fully now, sizing up the pony who stepped forward. He wasn't very large, and judging from his voice he was definitely young, but a single flashing bar on his chest distinguished him as a Royal Army lieutenant, an officer. Bravencrest groaned under her breath at the thought. If this pony had orders to take command, there was nothing she could do about it, as Coldheart's orders were to cooperate with the general's troops at all times.

"You Warden Bravencrest?" the lieutenant asked, stepping forward. Tempestia noticed that he wore a bomber's rig, complete with twin incendiary bombs. While she was thankful for the ordnance, she felt slightly wary around such old munitions. They always had a habit of breaking down and failing at the worst of time.

"Yes," she replied, saluting him briefly, though she was under no obligation to. He was from another nation and another military, superior rank not withstanding, and not actually an ally. Therefore, according to doctrine she didn't have to. But she felt like it anyway. Officers always felt better when they were surrounded by salutes. "I command this squadron. And you are?"

"Lieutenant Wingkins, 71st Royal Army, Sky Corps detachment. I've been ordered to take my detachment and assume command of your squad to replace a missing lieutenant."

"Missing is right," piped up one of the rookies Airborne from the back. "Missing her whole head."

"Silence!" Bravencrest snapped, staring furiously at the whelp until the woman turned away, a bored look on her face. She turned back to Wingkins, a little more respect for him now. If he'd survived this attack so far, that meant he had some measure of skill or was just extremely lucky. The young mostly had little of the former and oftentimes barrels of the latter. "We'll provide what help we can. Where's the rest of your platoon?"

"Right here," replied Wingkins, indicating the ten ponies around him, all of whom still had their eye shields locked in place on their helmets. "What you see is all I've got left."

"Of fifty?" Bravencrest asked, amazed. She'd known the fighting was horrendously bad, but from what she'd heard some of them had come through alright. The rest, she only now remembered, would of course be far worse off.

But Wingkins was shaking his head, saying "No, Warden. This is all that's left of 4th Company. Of two-hundred and fifty fliers. Our own captain is missing in action himself, and we have to beg, borrow and steal from 1st Company just to get the munitions we need. I was supposed to be folded into the 89th, but now it seems I've been passed off to you. Now, I understand the difference between NCO and officer, so how about this; you keep your command and I'll try to keep up and not get in the way."

* * *

><p><span>Victor Squad<span>

"Operation Virus"

Industrial District, Harbor Sector, Royal Army Harbor Watch Station 6, Dock 13

Of the few remaining branches of the Equestrian military, the Army Harbor Watch was the most neglected. It was the Harbor Watch's job to keep an eye out for pirates and dangerous creatures approaching Equestrian ports and shipping lanes and report them, after which the Sky Corps would fly out and deviate the threat from its path. But the Harbor Watch was so neglected and under funded that they didn't even give their soldiers rifles. According to Colonel Eye, as Azure understood it, they weren't even given training on how to operate the machine guns mounted on their boats.

And what sad little things they were, as well. Tiny motor driven boats, each barely large enough to hold four passengers, flat-topped affairs that looked more like cargo rafts than warships. But the colonel had told Gunn to come to this specific dock, and as Spitfire's stupid attack was mustered, the squad had done so, a very reluctant Captain Axeclaw in tow (who didn't dare try to take command from Gunn. At least she had enough brains for –that-). Azure wasn't sure at first what they'd find to help them get out there and fight the submarine, but the answer became evident as soon as Gunn pushed the heavy door open, its padlock cleaved by a bit of Twilight's magic (poor filly didn't have much left in her).

"Wow…" muttered Short as he gazed upon their prize, stepping slowly around it in the dock house. "I thought there weren't any of these left in service anymore."

"Technically, there aren't," replied Gunn, examining a nearby machine panel's controls, his brow low and his attention divided between discerning the faded letters and explaining the plan to the rest of the squad. "They stopped production a century ago, and the Army finally said to scrap all remaining vessels a few decades after that. But from what Colonel Eye's told me, Captain Aweigh never got around to finishing with all of the 71st's boats. Fortunately, it should still be in working order. The cabin's closed up, the guns and engine are draped and the metal is mostly aluminum and stainless steel. Meaning that what the salt air can reach isn't corrodible. All we need to worry about is the dogs shooting at us."

The current vessel that the squad spoke of was a small, eighty foot cutter patrol boat, long and low, with a slim prow and a knife-shaped form meant for speed. At the back, a bulky, primitive (if quite powerful) steam engine had been revealed, fortunately an early smokeless coal model. The two heavy machine guns up front had also been covered, and while there were barnacles and moldy growths all over the craft, it was apparently still seaworthy. And seabound, as well.

"What are those?" asked Twilight, pointing up at four large canisters on the boat, two on either side. The unicorn had refitted herself in helmet and rifle, and had seemed all too eager to get back into the action, though that may have been Azure's imagination at work.

"Private Cobalt, would you like to answer that?" asked Gunn, a knowing smile on his face. Before Azure could say a word however (and she would have, being the squad's heavy weapons and explosives expert) the arrogant and insufferable Captain Gilda Axeclaw beat her to it.

"Those are torpedo tubes…I didn't think you dweebs still had them."

Azure glared at the griffon, who was facing away and scoffing at the antiquated boats, but the draft mare managed to hold her tongue. "Yes, they're torpedoes. Two pointing fore, two pointing aft. The explosive charge in them will have been rendered slightly less potent, but it should still be effective."

"Against what? A cardboard wall?" scoffed the captain, and Azure felt her temper rising once more. The Cobalt family had a bit of a grudge against griffons, her especially, but it wasn't anything to bring up now, not when they were just boiling down to the most crucial part of the fight. Instead, she practiced her breathing techniques again, remembering what her coach had always said in the ring; _"Remember kid, if you lose it you may as well throw the match. An angry fighter doesn't think straight, he just acts. You've got the strength, but if you don't concentrate you won't be able to put it where it matters."_

Fortunately, the sergeant managed to diffuse the situation, finding the crank that slowly let the boat down from the chains she hung from. The second she was on the water, Gunn had crossed over to her prow, tugging away the tarps and exposing the engine and machine guns. The aluminum deck was covered in greenish, slimy looking mold and mildew and the remains of thousands of bird droppings, but Azure knew those would fade with the water. Short hopped on as well, grinning broadly from on top of the cabin in the center as he called "All aboard the HMS Scumbucket! First class express to Dogville!"

Nearby, Twilight giggled a little before climbing on board as well, giddily asking "Will there be dinner served onboard?"

"Of course, milady! All the lead you can eat!"

"Will you two stop horsing around?" barked Sergeant Gunn as he peered up from an open hatch. "We need to get this old girl moving. She's supposed to have a complement of ten, but we'll do for the five minutes we'll be piloting her." The dark blue stallion glanced over at Azure and Gilda, a cross look on his face. "What the hay are you waiting for, get your flanks onboard!"

As the sergeant disappeared, Gilda huffed, pumping her wings once as she leapt over the water, landing gracefully on the boat's deck. "Salty old warhorse, your sergeant," the griffon commented, flicking at a piece of mildew casually. Azure growled, backing up a few hooves before galloping forward and leaping over the gap. Needless to say, with her momentum and the heavy grenadier rig on her back, she landed less than gracefully, limbs in a heap and on her back. Gilda stood over her, grinning in obvious superiority. "The air, you were definitely not meant for. Loser."

Azure huffed, fighting to keep back her curses as she wriggled to her hooves, replacing her helmet. "Speaking of which, it would be nice –CAPTAIN- if you could at least get us some aerial cover. Since you don't seem to be good for anything else."

Gilda's grin persisted, however, despite Azure's acidic tone. In fact, the draft mare wondered if the griffon got off on the anger of others (wouldn't surprise her much).

"Oh, don't you worry about that, my little pony. Don't you worry."

* * *

><p><span>9th Hegemonic AOT (Advanced Operations Taskgroup)<span>

Current Mission: Espionage and Resource Retrieval

Dorsal surface of Hegemonic Fleet Submersible CNV-1108 _Seawolf_, Docked with _Pride of Ottapaw_

The first hint any of the dogs had was when a lowly bridge officer named Ensign Jowls started peering out through his field glasses at the harbor. So far, the bombardment was going well, rockets streaming occasionally from the tail of the Howloween Night, soaring through the thick, black night and landing somewhere in the city. True, more than two thirds of it was still intact, but Jowls hoped that it would be enough to keep the ponies and griffons out of the harbor. After all, who would be crazy enough to fight a destroyer with only aerial assets?

Jowls smiled as he tried to memorize the picture before him, every detail he could. Oh, when he got home and described this to his beloved Louise…but of course, he couldn't. That was the downside of being selected for secret missions, he supposed. No one could hear the glorious stories of his various conquests, and in his three years of serving under Commander Garret, the young ensign had nothing to tell his friends and family back home in Grrlin. Such a shame.

Jowls was still caught up in his thoughts when a heavy paw landed on his shoulder, and he jumped with a start to find none other than Major Boxer himself standing next to him, squinting off into the horizon. The rising sun was casting dim light over the snowy mountains around Stalliongrad, and even now it was still late, even though the time read six o'clock, meaning early morning. But Boxer was apparently not looking at the light show, for her pointed with a paw at the city, asking "Ensign, what do you see over there?"

Major Boxer completely creeped out Jowls. Always skulking about the ship in his black stealth gear with those two wolves accompanying him everywhere, all three of them silent as ghosts. And the other black ops personnel who'd come aboard were no better, keeping to themselves in small clusters and rebuffing all efforts by the Fleet sailors to socialize or object to their presence. Most of them were wolves, of course, but the rest were a mix of breeds. Most black ops were recruited from the Hegemonic Fleet Marine Corps, where the vicious fighting during boarding actions and shore invasions made instant veterans out of even the greenest pups. Others were drawn from the Army Vector Packs, a group of operators who, while not quite Special Forces, dropped behind enemy lines with heavy enough equipment to give their opponents a headache.

But black ops personnel were another kind of headache altogether. Always so secretive with their plans and ready to betray their allies in an instant in order to keep 'the mission' preserved. Why, thanks to the major here, the holds of the Seawolf were full to bursting with stolen gemstones and precious metals. Worth quite a fortune and it would definitely be a big boost to the treasury, but Jowls didn't like how this mission could potentially go pear-shaped for everyone, especially himself.

So, he quickly followed the major's order, peering out through the field glasses at the harbor. What he saw didn't surprise him. "Uh…mostly wrecked buildings, Major. Some Royal Army fortifications. A few armored vehicles. And a nice little café that-"

"No, you damn idiot! Up! Look up at the sky!" Abruptly, Jowls found his paws being yanked up, and he had to both bite back a bark and a curse as well as try to focus on just what the major might be looking at.

"I don't see -anything-, sir! There's no visibility through the smoke except for those…oh. _Oh!_"

The field glasses suddenly slipped from Jowls' shaking claws, smacking onto the thick skin of the submersible before sliding over the side, instantly forgotten in the water. But Ensign Jowls had bigger problems now. His jaw had dropped, his eyes were wide and he was shaking from head to toe, staring at the sky. Even now, more and more crewmen and marines were looking up, gazing at the gloomy pre-dawn sky in amazement as, from out of the gloom, a veritable tide of flyers seemed to soar down, wave upon wave of them converging on one point; the harbor.

"By the…Prime Alpha…"

"AIR ATTACK!" someone screamed, and suddenly howls split the air alongside yelps of panic and the sound of claws skittering on the submersible's metal surface as crewmen and marines sprang into panicked action, running for the conning tower or the nearest hatch, grabbing up weapons or ducking below to their stations.

Up topside, however, Major Boxer simply smiled as the Howloween Night opened up with its flak guns, spraying the sky with high-explosive incendiary rounds. He knew it was only a matter of time before the Royal Army got fed up with the punishment he'd been handing them. Now that his paws were tied and he had lost direct control of the diamond dogs, there was no better time for them to strike. He turned to one of his bodyguards, still smiling as he ordered "Launch the gyrocopter."

* * *

><p><span>Matriarchy Armed Forces, 4th Airborne Division<span>

5th Battalion, 1st Company, Salamander Squad, Cobra Element Attached

Industrial District, Harbor Sector

Participating in "Operation Virus"

As per her colonel's orders, Warden Tempestia Bravencrest joined the attack.

However, as per her captain's orders, she did not make a vector for the destroyer. Instead, she and her unit (squad? Platoon?) veered off, skimming along parallel with the harbor, following the numerous docks and warehouses. Captain Axeclaw had given her very strange orders indeed, but Gilda was another example of power hungry women in the Matriarchy with rank she didn't deserve. For as long as Bravencrest had been in 1st Company under the good captain's command, she'd known that one day that griffon would get in trouble and land herself in hot water. Her arrogant needling of Colonel Coldheart was famous, and everyone took bets on when the colonel would simply shoot Gilda herself. Whatever Captain Axeclaw was up to, Bravencrest knew it had something to do with getting her ass out of the crosshairs.

"_What are we looking for, Warden?"_ asked Wingkins over the wireless, coming in riddled with static over the headset. Equestrian radio technology was years behind, and while radio waves were radio waves, Hippogryph headsets were never able to pick up Royal Army transmissions with much clarity. Fortunately, Bravencrest had been through enough battles in rough terrain to hear the radio break down any number of a dozen ways, and was more than up to the task of compensating for it, understanding the lieutenant as if he'd spoken in her ear.

She risked a glance over at the destroyer, wincing at the sight. The sky was full of fire, every flak turret and heavy machine gun firing tracer rounds into the air, where the former detonated with a flash and the latter pierced several targets with each round. Already, the water was full of gryphon corpses, the occasional Pegasus spotted in between. Crimson blood began to seep out through the water, and Bravencrest had seen enough battles on the water to know that the sharks and sea monsters attracted to the harbor by the scent of the coppery red liquid would have a feeding frenzy. It was a scene out of some kind of horror film, but she couldn't tear her eyes away, even as she watched gryphons and ponies getting torn to ribbons in midair. Over in the distance, safe from harm, Artemis could be spotted overseeing the operation, and Colonel Coldheart was undoubtedly shouting into the radio at General Spitfire, who was probably doubly panicking back in the hotel. Even surrounded on all sides, the destroyer was a tough nut to crack, more than able to fend off the aerial charges, and what few munitions that were accurate enough barely made a dent on the ship if they hit, most sending geysers of water into the air. The fliers who made it through the cloud of flak and lead were met with marine rifles, claws and sharpened bayonets as the crew fought back fiercely. The fliers, in their lighter battle gear, were poorly equipped to go against heavy infantry like the hard-shell armor wearing dogs, and as such the ratio was staggering (especially to the Pegasi, whose kit was made for fighting from a distance in the air and not the close-knit hoof to paw battle on the deck). This was a battle that could not be won, not with their numbers and not the way they were doing it. Already, hundreds were dead and dying, and more were joining them every second.

It had to stop.

With a tempered anger, a suppressed urge to vomit and a new sense of determination, the Warden looked ahead, counting the dock houses that zoomed past. Seven, eight, nine-

There! Up ahead, an explosion! And zooming out of Dock 13 was a boat, a fast little number that zipped along on the water. Thanks to the dark substance covering her deck, the zipper was partially hidden on the water, making it hard to see even if you knew it was there. Bravencrest had to admire the Royal Army and their ingenuity. They knew how to improvise!

She pointed, yelling to her unit "There! Dive, dive! We need to give them air support!"

"_Gyrocopter sighted!"_ yelled one of Wingkins' fliers, pointing towards the cargo ship with his hoof. _"Bearing one-one-eight by six-four!"_

"_Roger that, Cobra-9. Warden, we'll peel off and engage all targets on and around the cargo ship!"_

"Affirmative, Lieutenant!" Bravencrest responded, already tucking her wings in close around her. "Salamanders, let's go! Time to provide some close-ass air support!"

* * *

><p><span>Onboard Patrol Boat 116, newly christened <span>_HMS Scumbucket _(unofficial)

This was absolutely insane.

Griffons didn't belong on the water. And yet, here she was, speeding along on what must have been the most cantankerous boat still able to float in the entire world! A wonder its engine still worked and a wonder the coal was still able to be burned! Or that the water hadn't turned tepid! Or any other thing!

Gilda could go on forever about how much she didn't belong here, but right now, feeling the rush of the wind in her face and tracing along her feathers, all she did was shift her goggles up, inhale deeply and yell "HELL YEAH, BITCHES! WHOO-HOO!"

"Hey!" snapped the old stallion from the wheelhouse. "Get your flank down from there and help! We need somepony on the wireless!"

The point of the matter was, Gilda knew she was far more useful in the air, with her other fliers, but adrenaline was causing parts of her brain to shut down, reducing her to a nod and a duck inside, squeezing past old Gunn and idiot Stop. The two were leaning over the same console, trying to make sense of all the levers, buttons and gauges. So far, they'd figured out the throttle and firing mechanisms for the torpedoes, but everything else was beyond everyone on board, and while the loser Twilight watched the engines, that punk draft mare was up on the machine guns, just waiting for the order to open fire.

Finally, Gilda reached the wireless set, flicking several switches on. A harsh wail of static rang back at her, and she winced as she adjusted the volume, tucking the headset on over her ears (barely! The damn thing wouldn't fit regularly, so she was forced to wear it at an odd angle) and swiftly dialing in the frequency she'd ordered Bravencrest to use. One thing you could count on with that woman, she would always follow orders.

"Uh oh! I think they see us!" yelled Short as the gyrocopter screamed past, its machine gun chattering and its rotors chopping mere feet above the water.

"It's coming back!" yelled Azure, barely discernable on the ship's ancient PA system. Gunn glanced over at Gilda, a scowl on his features as he said "Well, at least we won't feel anything. This old girl's armor won't stop a full rocket barrage, but I –don't- want to end up on the bottom of the harbor! Captain, get us some bucking air support!"

"Yessir, Marshal von Douche," Gilda replied flippantly, finally getting some of her sass back. Over the radio, cries of _"There he is!"_ and _"Roll, roll!"_ rang out in Gilda's ears, and she made minute adjustments. Everywhere she went, however, it seemed she ran into horrible news. Either it was the disaster of an assault on the destroyer, or a moment from the pitched battle against the dog's defenses.

"There she goes!" yelled Short, hooves busy at the controls as he tried to find the proper switch for whatever it was he wanted to do. But sure enough, Gilda glanced out the front window to find that the Seawolf had disconnected from the Pride of Ottapaw, turning and steaming towards deeper water, it's kerosene-fuelled engines spinning the propeller at full speed.

"Stop! Hammer time! Kick 'em in the rear!" yelled Gun, swerving to the side to avoid a burst of fire from the gyrocopter again.

"Roger that, Sarge! Firing both forward torpedoes…just need an angle…firing now!"

* * *

><p>Azure's head was positioned just right to feel the compressed air as it exploded out of the torpedo tubes, sending the explosives zipping along through the water, straight at the target. The part of her mane outside her helmet whipped in the wind, and she cursed the lenient Army regulation mane lengths for mares. She knew she should have gotten it cut earlier this month!<p>

Dragging her eyes from the twin streaks through the water, she glanced up just in time to see the gyrocopter spin past, out of control and on fire, skidding off the water's surface before smashing into the hull of the cargo ship, leaving a large hole where an advanced aircraft had once been, allowing water to spill into the ship's hold. Azure knew for a fact that, within an hour, a hole that large would send the ship straight to the harbor's bottom.

She had no time to cheer over the machine's death, however, for just ahead the old torpedoes finally made contact, twin plumes of water splashing up high into the air. The first had bounced off, detonating harmlessly out in open water, causing Azure to wince at the miss. The second torpedo, however, had struck dead on, catching in the propeller! Though the explosives, like she'd said, were far less potent now than when they'd first been placed in the tubes (some idiot had never thought to remove the weapons and ammunition from the decommissioned boat), the torpedo had done its job, zipping straight to the target and blowing the assembly to pieces! Even if the Seawolf tried to dive now, she had no way to control herself! Practically dead in the water!

Hatches flew open, and dogs in heavy body armor poured out, automatic rifles and combat shotguns barking in the gloom, sending bright flashes of light through the cold, icy air, bullets snatching the air all around her head. Azure ducked, slightly, clamping down on the bit trigger as she wheeled the machine guns around, spraying the back of the submersible with high caliber bullets. While most of the forms staggered under her ferocious, double-barreled rain of death, a few went down, and she cheered around her bared teeth as she felt the recoil through her neck, straightening a little to see better and take the strain. The boat had slowed now, wheeling around the submersible's hulk as Short and Twilight both climbed up top, adding their rifles to the fray. Colonel Eye's recommendation had been to sweep the top first of the Seawolf's marines before going in, as the dogs would have the advantage in such a close range firefight.

Abruptly, another hatch opened up near the front, and a single dog, a smaller Boston terrier, scrambled out towards the deck gun, upon which a larger Labrador marine was already slamming a magazine into.

"DECK GUN!" Azure shouted, swiveling her machine guns around as the boat swerved from another angle. "Sarge, that autocannon will tear right through us!" Even as she spoke, the gun let out a series of thumps and cracks, and shells whistled past, detonating in the water and spewing up a stream of geysers in a line behind them as Gunn cursed, wrestling with the controls to give them every bit of tactical maneuvering room they had to work with!

A bullet smacked into Azure's helmet, ricocheting off with a loud screeching sound as she was thrown back into the turret, crying out in shock and fear. Fortunately, after a quick feel, the draft mare's head was still in place, but her helmet had quite a serious dent in it. "Ow!" she yelled out, wobbling to her hooves again as the boat swerved once more, this time to swerve out of the way of a pair of shells, launched from the destroyer nearby. Azure cursed under her breath. Dangit! The flyers were peeling off, rushing back to the safety of the harbor buildings after failing to get enough soldiers on deck before their morale was broken!

"SARGE!" she screamed, ducking as one of Wingkin's interceptor Pegasi zoomed overhead, dual machineguns chewing up the crew on the deck gun and spraying blood and gore across the dorsal side of the submersible.

"I see it!" replied Gunn as he pulled back on the power lever, practically abusing the throttle as he pounded it into place. And then, of all the crazy things, the sergeant actually left the controls and crawled up onto the topside! He glanced around, looking to each of his troopers (who stared back dumbfounded, all three of them) before he cocked his rifle, staring straight ahead…at the approaching submersible! "It's up to us, Victor squad!" yelled Gunn as the collision approach at top speed. "We get in there and we find a way to stop that destroyer! And no matter what, we find the son of a bitch who started this whole danged attack, and we put a bullet in his skull! NOW WHO'S WITH ME?"

"HOOAH!" screamed Victor squad in return, rising to the occasion and gripping their weapons, ready to impact and face their destiny.

* * *

><p>Fortunately, they didn't crash and die.<p>

When the boat smashed into the side of the submersible, it's hull crumpled, launching the high speed patrol boat high into the air and far across the harbor, where it smashed into the remains of a fishing boat.

Meanwhile, Victor squad had been lifted (more like rescued) by a very timely Warden Bravencrest and Gilda Axeclaw, who looked very shaky indeed but very much relieved to be off the boat in control of a mad stallion with a crazy crew! Twilight glanced up at the griffon pulling her along through the air, claws clutching her by the back of her vest, finally feeling, for the first time in her life, just why Rainbow Dash was so nuts about flying. The chill ocean breeze smacked into her face, and even though she wore goggles she could feel them stinging her eyes, smell the salt as it encrusted her coat and mane, hear the wind as it snapped past her ears…she closed her eyes for a moment, wishing this moment would never end.

Unfortunately, the gryphon Legionnaires dropped Victor squad to the deck, hovering briefly before turning away, soaring across the water. For a brief moment, Twilight felt a pang of regret and bitterness, having been robbed of her flying experience. Maybe if she could just remember that temporary wing spell again…then the destroyer's guns boomed, sending another volley of flak shells screaming past overhead. Two Pegasi and one gryphon were not so lucky, however, and the incendiary rounds tore them to shreds in midair.

Gilda hovered just above the submersible, her wings flapping powerfully to keep her aloft. "We'll fall back to the port buildings! That sub is too cramped for us, but you're all perfect sizes! It's down to you now!"

The squad nodded confirmation and turned away, beginning their hustle towards the nearest hatch. Before they got too far, however, the mage heard Gilda call out "Twilight!" A quick glance back showed the Airborne captain flash her a grin and a thumbs up, yelling "You're cool, you know that? We should hang with Dash sometime!"

And with that, the griffon was gone. And Twilight, surprisingly, found herself considering the offer.

As she turned back, another dog clambered out from a hatch nearby, coughing and whining with their ears pinned back. Upon spotting Twilight, the terrier froze, eyes wide, before scrambling for the pistol at his belt. The unicorn didn't give the pup a chance, raising her rifle and putting two rounds into his chest, sending the dog plummeting back into the depths. Nearby, Gunn and Short also shot dogs coming up, this time marines, and Azure launched two grenades down into the depths.

"Go, go, go! Forward hatch!" yelled Gunn, and the squad immediately turned, galloping towards the destination to find their first big challenge; negotiating a ladder meant for two legs, not four.

* * *

><p>The sub's interior was cramped, dark, and badly illuminated thanks to the beating she'd received at Victor squad's hooves. Valves bled steam into the air, gauges were cracked, lights had gone out and there were even small leaks throughout the entire vessel.<p>

"We didn't do that, did we?" muttered Short, scanning a side passage as the squad traipsed past, his eyes focused on a rapidly-expanding puddle of water on the floor.

"Looks like we did," replied Gunn, up at the front as usual, watching the hall below as they passed over a collapsed staircase, the corpses of a rottweiler and a beagle at the bottom a grim testament to how effective their volley had actually been.

Overhead, a red light flashed in every room and passageway, a blaring alarm sounding out through the submersible. They'd seen dozens of crewmen run past where they were hidden, dogs panicking to stem the damage to their vessel while simultaneously avoiding the damaged sections and their potential death. So far, it also seemed that the marines were helping them out, proving that the armored soldiers were not above a little manual labor to save their own hides. According to Colonel Eye, Twilight recalled, a submersible of this class needed around one hundred crew to operate, and the transport variant had facilities for half that many marines. That meant, due to the brief firefight up top, that there were far less combat personnel and far more in naval hands below. At least, Twilight reckoned, any fights down here would be short and lack any heavy ordnance whatsoever, save for Azure's guns (knowing the conditions ahead and the risk of puncturing the hull with recoilless rifles, the blue draft mare had switched out her equipment for a grenadier rig, fitted with two grenade launchers and a brace of fragmentation grenades, perfect for fighting in the cramped interiors of a submersible).

"Contact!" cried Short, a millisecond before a dog handgun cracked further ahead, joined by the boom of a shotgun and the rattle of an automatic rifle. The squad split, each one finding their own little bolthole to take cover in from the barrage of bullets. Judging from the high rate of fire and panicked shouting, these soldiers were either fleet crew or rookie marines. One way or another, they lacked the fire discipline Twilight had seen earlier with the soldiers topside.

"Clear them out!" ordered Gunn, and Azure swiftly poked her head around the corner that had sheltered her, clamping the bit-trigger twice. With two muffled thumps, grenades streaked out, slamming into the end of the hallway and detonating there with a deafening blast, a blinding flash and (Twilight knew) a storm of deadly shrapnel. The fire ended, and Azure called "Clear!" The squad moved up once more, and Twilight glanced down, reluctantly, as they passed over the remains of the dogs. She'd been wrong, there were two crewmen and one marine, but all three were splattered over the deck, blood spraying everywhere and what little was left splayed out in pieces, barely recognizable as once living, breathing beings.

Oddly, she didn't find herself disgusted or horrified by the sight. And that frightened her worse than anything else she'd seen today.

"Command center up ahead," Short muttered, taking up position in the next passageway, rifle aimed down the length of it as the others passed. True to what he said, the next hatch had a sign over it marked in bold white letters OPS COMMAND CENTER. It was shut, like all other hatches, but a wheel meant to be opened with a grip. It would have been impossible for ponies to get past, but Twilight knew she could open it for them. They had no explosives to breach it otherwise, and could not waste time waiting for a member of the crew to emerge.

"Okay, Sparkle. Get it," Gunn whispered after the squad was in place to breach, rifles all aimed at the hatch and ready to fire. Azure's eyes were narrowed, her teeth visible on the bit-trigger as she readied herself, shifting back and forth slightly under the weight of the rig. Short's eyes were flicking back and forth, switching between hard determination at the hatch and concerned sadness at Twilight. Gunn, of course, stood rock steady. Twilight took a deep breath, summoning up the last of her magical reserves within her. She'd only have enough power to try this once, and they had to do it-

_Crack!_

A single shot was all that rang out, and a single shot was all that was needed. Every pony's head swiveled around to find, to their surprise, where there had once been nothing and no one down the passageway, there were suddenly ten, twelve, maybe even twenty large forms covered in black armor and fatigues, their faces hidden behind face masks, balaclavas and full-face visors. But the snouts made it clear who they were.

"WOLVES!" yelled Gunn, right before a storm of gunfire broke out. Unlike the first shot, which had been loud, echoing and seemingly cacophonic in the tight confines of the sub, the black clothes figures made no sound as their rifles fired. Instead of bangs and cracks, Twilight only heard a light rattle, like a bottles of beads being shaken hard. The ricochet of the bullets was louder than the reports, and sparks flew as the rounds bounced everywhere. Victor squad dug in hard as the wolves attacked, returning fire as best they could through the barrage of disciplined suppressing fire that came streaming out at them. The wolves were clever about the way they moved, however, and while one half kept the ponies suppressed and their heads down, the other half bounded forward, taking up new cover and joining the automatic storm of lead, allowing those at the back to move up. A rudimentary tactic, but one the wolves used instantly!

Twilight found herself pressed against the hull behind a strut, unable to move, unable to think, unable to even breath it seemed! Nearby, Azure popped her head out, screaming as she fired two rounds from her launchers before a bullet caught her in the neck, sending her spinning to the floor. "T-trooper down!" the mage called out, trying (and failing) to leave cover and go check on the draft mare. A round zipped past her head, however, and she realized that might not be the best thing to do. "Azure!" There was some movement, at least, the blue pony pulling herself back into cover, even as she smeared a red streak across the floor.

"They're still moving up!" yelled Short as he fired a quick burst before ducking down again. "No manure, really?" replied Gunn as he let out a longer stream of rounds, unafraid of the bullets zinging past. In front of the sergeant, one of the wolves fell to the floor, howling in pain as he clutched his chest with a paw. Nearby, one of the lupines suddenly jerked back and fell motionless as a lucky shot from Short caught it the operator in the forehead.

"Twilight!" yelled Gunn as he primed a grenade. "How about some magic out here!"

"WHAT?" the student yelped, unable to keep the shock from her voice and wincing as a bullet sparked against the bulkhead right next to her. "Are you nuts, Sergeant? If I try a powerful spell at this point, I could wind up blowing the sub to pieces!"

"It's not much worse than our current situation!" Gunn replied as he chucked the explosive. It bounced twice, the large canister rolling for a second before detonating in the face of the wolf who leaned down to pick it up. Nearby, a wolf threw a grenade of his own, only for it to be kicked aside by the blue stallion into another passageway, detonating harmlessly. "DO IT!" the sergeant bellowed, sawing out another burst of automatic fire.

Panicking, Twilight glanced around, looking over the surfaces of the sub's interior. She couldn't risk it, a failed spell at this point with cause all the rivets in the vessel's frame to shoot out, or for it to compact together and crush them all, or for it to simply disappear and leave them in the water with heavy gear on, or…or…or any number of things could go wrong! Magic was proven to be as powerful as one's own concentration, but if you forced the spell it could have disastrous results! Her own studies proved this beyond doubt!

"Twilight…"

She heard his voice through the din, calm and collected. She risked a chance, peering around her cover, flinching as a bullet narrowly cut past. There, just a few hooves away, was Short, crouched behind an instrument panel. He was watching her, his own eyes calm and still, a small smile on his face. Nothing in his demeanor suggested he was scared, or even intimidated. Nearby, Gunn popped out once more, firing a long burst that suppressed a few wolves, cutting down one or two who had tried to advance on their position.

"Short…" she half-whispered, half-sobbed, unable to keep the fear from her own voice. "Short, I can't control it! What happens if I blast us all to oblivion, or teleport the sub to a volcano, or-"

"Twilight. We've got our backs to the wall here. Literally. It's all or nothing at this point." The explosions became muffled as Short abruptly crossed the hallway, a bullet snapping past his head and another slamming into his side, throwing him into the ground. As he crawled over, Twilight thought she'd see blood spewing everywhere, but his vest had taken the blow, and the bullet had not gone through. Now next to her, Short smiled down at the unicorn.

"I'm not afraid."

Those three words (as corny as it sounded, a part of her still-functioning intellect pointed out) triggered something in Twilight, something that made take a deep breath, waiting until she stopped shaking before she nodded, saying "I am. But that's no reason not to."

And then stepping out into the passageway.

By all rights, she should have died on the spot. Bullets were whizzing back and forth, grenades rolling underhoof. They were outnumbered still, about fifteen black ops wolves still alive. The numbers didn't add up as to why Twilight survived, and even from the squad's testimony no unicorn at the universities or military analysis center in High Command could figure out how or why Twilight had survived for the seconds she needed to cast her spell. But she did, and that's all that mattered. Her eyes glowed a soft lavender, making several wolves pause and others look away, yelping and crying out about a witch. The air around her crackled, static causing her hair to stand up on end as she rose from the deck, hanging in midair.

Everyone around (except for Gunn, who was still shooting even when the return fire stopped) stared in awe at the spectacle…

Just as Twilight's magic peaked and her spell finished. A jet of purple and black flames, conjured out of nowhere, zoomed down the corridor, somehow not singing even a single patch of Sergeant Gunn, though it passed right over him. The wolves had only second to scream, howl in panic, shoot at the fire or turn to run, but in the end it made no difference. The fire caught up with them, and while many were expecting to be burned alive, the fire did not harm a single piece of their bodies. Instead, each of them felt a deep, sharp pain as the Soulfire spell burned their chests from the inside out, spreading to their brains and extinguishing their lives swiftly, without the drawn out agony that real fire would have caused. None of the operators escaped, the very inner beings destroyed as the powerful spell caught them, did its work and moved on. By the time Twilight fell to the deck again, not a single operator was standing, all of them laying dead in a heap, expressions of shock and surprise etched on their face, a few in pain but not suffering. Most had died before they even realized they were dead, so quickly had the process taken place. Such a spell was forbidden, unused since the War of the Moon (by both sides in that horrific conflict). But Twilight had done no studying on it, hadn't even known the right incantation for it. She'd simply cast the spell that seemed right for the job.

But she didn't know this. None of them did. Instead, Short and Gunn rushed to the student's side, and when it was ascertained that she was physically alright, Gunn moved to Azure.

"Private Cobalt, are you sleeping on the job?"

Azure chuckled, a little blood leaking between her teeth. "Sorry, Sarge. Getting shot tends to make you a bit tired."

Gunn nodded, not risking more damage by pulling her hoof away to look at the wound. "How is it?"

"Just a flesh wound, Sarge. I'll be up and at 'em in no time."

"That blood says differently."

Azure sighed, a smile on her face as she looked back up at the Sergeant, nodding and saying "Yeah. Yeah, it does." She coughed, spraying a little more blood over the deck as she settled back, hissing in pain as blood continued to leak from behind her hoof, down her neck and settling in her vest or on the floor. The crimson conflicted brightly with her blue coat, even in the gloom, and Gunn knew that unless he acted now she wouldn't make it, she was losing blood too fast. The bullet appeared to have passed straight through, but the hole it had left must have hit something. If it was an artery, then it was already over.

He reached back, rummaging in his saddlebags before pulling out a piece of gauze in his jaws. But Azure held up a hoof. "No, Sarge. Don't. Don't waste your time. I already know my chances. And there's no way for you to get me out of here. I'm a dead mare already-"

"Shut up."

The quiet, flat answer was enough to shock Azure into silence. Sergeant Lock Gunn never spoke softly, or even as harsh as she'd heard just now. Gunn didn't even look down at her as he tugged her hoof away, slapping the gauze into place to stem the blood before beginning to wrap bandages around her neck to hold it in place. "I've been in the Army for ten years now, Private. I've seen comrades come and go. Most were transferred. Some retired. But a few others died. Right in front of me. I've kept track of how many of my squad mates died, all through the years. Never forgot the number or their names. Last week, the count was at seventeen. Now, it's at twenty-three." He looked at her now, just as he finished tightening the bandage in place, already staining red with blood seeping through. So long as she wasn't hit in an artery, she would be okay. "I'm not letting it go to twenty-four. Nopony else is going to die. You hear me, Azure?"

Slowly, the blue draft mare nodded, wincing at the pain in her neck. She resisted the urge to reach up and hold the wound, knowing that would just irritate it more. Her limbs felt leaden anyways, her head buzzing and her eyelids heavy. But she couldn't fall asleep, for she knew there was a chance she might not wake up again.

Gunn stood, looking down at her with the expression a father might have for a sick daughter. Concerned, suffering, but knowing there was little else he could do. "You need to live, Azure. That's an order."

The mare chuckled, nodding and swallowing to clear her throat of the cottony feel that had somehow been placed in her mouth. "Yeah…you got it…Sarge." She saluted him, weakly, already feeling her strength leaking out with her blood as her hoof fell to her side, but she nodded, making sure he knew she was still conscious.

Gunn turned to Short and Twilight, his face dark as he looked upon the two. It broke his heart a little to realize he had misinterpreted Twilight's kindness as something more, and he did feel a little pang of jealousy at his young recruit's good fortune…but also a little bit of satisfaction. The two were almost made for each other, even if they were continually beating around the bush. Maybe, some time down the road, they'd finally come to their senses. But here and now, Gunn pushed those fatherly thoughts from his mind, returning to the task at hoof.

"Let's finish this," he said, cocking his rifle. "The sooner we clear the sub and find a way to sink that destroyer, the sooner Azure gets to a medic."

* * *

><p>Twilight still wasn't sure how they were supposed to sink a warship with a transport submersible. According to Colonel Coldheart, the vessel was unarmed save for the autocannon deck gun up top, and that hadn't even been able to get the best of their dinky little patrol boat. There was no way it could penetrate the thick steel armor of the ship in the harbor. But Eagle Eye had remained convinced that the <span>Seawolf<span> carried more than she appeared, and there was only one place to find out if that was true; the command center.

The hatch, as it turned out, was unlocked, so Short and Gunn slammed into it with their shoulders, forcing the thick steel door open and leaping inside, rifles up and at the ready. The room was dark, like the rest of the ship, and lights blared from every single direction. Panels, status lights, switches, levers, gauges. It all blared out at them, like a Technicolor dream or one of Vinyl Scratch's more radically minded music videos. But they weren't challenged, and nothing shot at them.

You can't be shot at by dead crew.

At first, Twilight thought her spell had killed everyone in here. Was it strong enough to reach beings through steel bulkheads? Was she really that powerful? But a quick inspection of a nearby body revealed that these dogs had been shot, not killed by magic fire. Each one had a bullet in his head, and the all lay in various death poses. Judging from the angle, they'd been shot from…

"What kind of idiot shoots his own crew?" Short muttered, stepping over a dead Labrador.

"Someone who wasn't satisfied with the results," replied Gunn, kicking the commander's chair lightly. It swiveled, revealing a dead Corgi with a high peaked cap, blood streaming from the bullet hole between his eyes and his paw clutching a pistol.

"The black ops commander?"

"Makes sense. Every dog here was killed by a single shot to the head. Tell me, would -you- have that kind of accuracy?"

Short shrugged, turning over another dog nearby. "I dunno. Probably not. At this close range I'd just hold down the trigger and keep going until my magazine ran dry."

Gunn nodded, moving to a nearby panel. "Exactly. Which means this wasn't done by Fleet marines. Look at this." Gunn pointed to two marines, laying side by side next to the wall. Their thick hard-shell armor and helmets hadn't saved them, for the bullet holes were right in their facemasks. "Someone made sure to knock these guys off first. They're still at their posts. If this –was- a coup, I'd wager they'd have shot the captain to start."

"But he had enough time to draw a weapon," Twilight muttered, frowning as she squinted in the darkness, trying to read what each of the switches controlled.

Short, meanwhile, had made a discovery. "Sarge! Check this out, it's the periscope!" A thick metal tube was deployed in the center of the room, handles out. The ensign at their hooves must have been looking out when the assassins came, and Short reared up, pulling it down a little to gaze into.

"Short, we've got other things to worry about, so why don't you pitch in for a second and stop screwing around with the sightseeing? Look, I found the control panel for a torpedo tube, but I have no idea what the dogs use to aim with this thing…"

"How about a range meter, Sarge?" Short asked, turning around slightly to face the same direction as the prow of the submersible. "This thing's labeled in range and coordinate markers…" He fell silent for a second, gazing out at whatever was beyond the vessel. "Hey, Sarge. You say you've got the trigger?"

Gunn frowned, glancing at the fire control panel. The green light over the label TUBE 1 glowed brightly, and an arming switch lay beneath that, coupled with a button that he assumed was the launching mechanism. After a moment of studying, he nodded and replied "Yeah, in a manner of speaking."

Short peered around the periscope, grinning like a loon. "We're pointed right at that destroyer! For the moment, anyway. I think the sub's still turning…the point is, we've got the direction, we've got the torpedo-"

"We've got a way to sink the ship!" all three of them exclaimed at the same time, jaws falling open and ecstatic smiles everywhere.

Gunn didn't waste any time, stepping over the panel swiftly and lifting the lid over the arming switch, flicking it and waiting for the light to turn red before he brought his hoof down firmly on the firing button.

* * *

><p>The Canid Mk. 16 torpedo was a finely tuned system of explosives and propellant. Unlike Equestrian torpedoes, it was not meant to explode directly on the hull, and unlike Hippogryph dive sabots it had no steel spike to shoot through the side of a ship. Instead, the Suplex exploder mechanism had a magnetic detonator inside it, meant to detonate just under a ship, catastrophically ruining the keel. Such an explosive had already sent many a ship to their water grave and liquefied the inside of many sea monsters. It was slightly front heavy, but that assisted in its role of being a concussive explosive.<p>

As the projectile left the tube, the motor turned on, the metal fin pushing the single, lone weapon through the water at high speeds. The destroyer wasn't very far away, and most of the other boats in the harbor (their wrecks, anyway) were made of wood, simple fishing and sailing boats that had brought in fish from the ocean for years. The torpedo nosed past several of these wrecks, disinterested in the boring wooden hulls. It had no time to be detonating against debris. It ignored the corpses in the water as well, hundreds of griffons and ponies from the ill-fated attack on the destroyer who, thanks to their gear, were already beginning to sink into the harbor. There was nothing large enough to attract the torpedoes attention. Instead, it honed in directly on the Howloween Night, the biggest, most metallic target in its sight. In the panic to repel the airborne attack, none of the dogs had been watching their instruments, and the captain had just called all hands back to stations when Victor squad had made their discovery. As such, the sonar system on board picked up the torpedo too late, and by the time the ensign assigned to it had turned to yell, the torpedo detonated.

The Howloween Night's keel bent backwards like a wet bamboo shoot, thrusting up into the hull and ripping apart the connection from countless bulkheads, crushing various compartments and pulping crew like oranges. But the worst of it came when the shaking reached the arsenal, causing a pair of shells that had been paused in mid-load to fall from the loading racks. One bounced away harmlessly, rolling to the side. The other, however, fell directly on the blasting cap. Unlike battleship shells, Fleet destroyers used ordnance that came packaged together like a conventional bullet, more like a tank shell. As such, when the second round fell, the blasting cap went off, the powder ignited and the round fired, sending the shell straight up into the ceiling, where it detonated.

An Assassin Class destroyer carried a lot of ordnance. Not only shells for their big guns, but also flak rounds for the anti-air turrets, thousands of machine gun and autocannon rounds for the deck guns and stores of grenades and other explosives for the marines. But the biggest problem was the depth charges. Large barrels of explosives meant to rupture submersible hulls and liquefy the internal organs of sea monsters, the depth charges were, naturally, stored away from the shell arsenal. But, when an explosion rips through the ship, it's hard to avoid.

The Howloween Night's arsenals and storage bays detonated, blowing out practically every compartment. The bridge disappeared in a storm of fire, metal shards and a hail of broken glass, incinerating and eviscerating every crewman in the room before they could even respond to the torpedo strike. The deck ruptured as the turrets were ripped up like mushrooms from the ground, railing spinning off from the sides. Plates of armor were tossed carelessly into the water, and when the explosions finally reached the kerosene engines, the result was catastrophic, practically half of the ship disappearing in a fiery death that could be witnessed in great detail even from aboard the Artemis mobile airbase. Colonel Coldheart and General Spitfire stared, dumbfounded at the mighty ship that had repulsed them, shocked beyond all belief at the spectacle before them.

The Howloween Night died a horrible, fiery death just as the sun finally slipped over the mountains, spilling sunlight down onto the city. Smoke from the Industrial Sector kept the majority of the illumination from pouring through, but out on the harbor the golden rays highlighted and framed the destroyer's conflagration on the water, captured the fate of its crew as what remained of the ship rapidly began to sink into the water, it's keel gone and its hull almost nonexistent. Few Fleet sailors would survive. Those who did immediately jumped ship, swam for the harbor docks and immediately surrendered to 1st Company as the Army soldiers swarmed the port to see the spectacle for themselves.

Unfortunately, fate would deal out a not too kind card to Victor squad.

* * *

><p>"Direct hit! Direc-oh, holy BUCKIN' hay!"<p>

Short threw his forelegs into the air, letting out a cheer as he forgot all about his speaking lessons and proper manner, whooping like the southerner he was as he spun around and drawled "She's goin' down to th' bottom of th' harbor! Lit up brighter 'n a firecracker, ah kin tell ya that!" The grey stallion laughed crazily, but he was joined by an equally ecstatic Twilight, who practically body-slammed into him, the two of them hugging madly like they might fly up into the air at any second and holding on was the only way either of them would stay rooted to the floor. Nearby, Gunn chuckled, grinning widely before he started laughing too, a raucous bellow that hadn't been heard in far too long.

However, in the midst of this cheering, the three didn't hear the quiet rasp of metal on metal.

Not until the gunshot, anyway.

Short and Twilight spun around, detaching themselves from each other as they stared, wide-eyed. Nothing is actually considered 'bullet-proof.' Merely 'bullet-resistant.' The right bullet will pierce through almost any material, even it's rated against rounds. In this case, an Army Mark IV combat vest was rated against most small arms of repeater caliber and below, as well as moderate success against middle-weight rifle rounds.

But from six feet away, even a bullet-proof vest can't absorb a magnum slug.

Sergeant Lock Gunn was pale, eyes wide as he coughed, trying to draw breath. It was hard to move, hard to inhale, hard to even think. He felt as though a great, hot lance had been speared through his side, and he could taste blood in his mouth. He turned his head around, using practically all his strength to do so, to find himself looking down the barrel of a Canid J2F pistol.

Gunn's knees gave out from under him as he collapsed to the deck.

"No…NO!" screamed Short as the sergeant fell, and he would have sprinted forward if it weren't for the fact that the gun was swiveled around, and another shot rang out, slamming into the young soldier and sending him reeling back, gasping in pain. Twilight shrieked, eyes wide as she watched both stallions fall, her reactions set back to something primal, animalistic prey instinct kicking in as she skittered backwards, half-hiding behind the commander's chair.

* * *

><p>Major Ulrich Boxer stood in the hatch, gun smoking as he gazed coolly down at the unicorn. How disappointing. To learn that all his wolves and most of this sub's marine detachment had been killed by four troopers, to learn that the torpedo had already been launched, to learn that the last salvageable part of the plan had been ruined. The entire plan had been ruined since the griffons had shown up, and this was just icing on top of the cake.<p>

At least he'd already killed that idiot Garret after they'd been immobilized. Him and his entire incompetent bridge crew. Including Ensign Jowls. Boxer could barely keep his raged tapped, and knew that all who had known of his involvement needed to be silenced.

He stepped inside, watching her coolly, listening to the second soldier groaning on the ground. There was no point in finishing them off, he was done here. It was time to extract back to the Recalcitrant somehow and find a way back home.

Still, he felt that there was something he had to do. It wasn't like he could just leave them there.

So, he turned around, holstering his pistol and reaching up to his vest, plucking a frag grenade. With an almost careless gesture, he pulled the pin, tossing it over his shoulder and striding away. After all, four second fuses only lasted three seconds. Every soldier knew that.

* * *

><p>As the dog turned around, Twilight crawled forward, finally bringing herself level with Short, who was still groaning in pain, at least. "Are you alright?"<p>

"Yeah…vest took most of it, I think. But it might have gone through anyway." Short groaned, reaching out to her-

Just as, with the clink of metal on metal, Boxer's grenade dropped nearby.

A soldier's first duty is to protect his country and his people. A soldier's first reaction when an explosive drops, however, is to save those around him. So when the hand grenade fell, he immediately hauled himself up, the pain in his chest gone, and threw himself on top of Twilight, yelling "GRENADE, GET DOWN!"

It was the longest three seconds of Twilight's life. Her eyes were wide, her body covered by Short as he once more put himself in harm's way for her. This time, however, might be too much. She had enough time to be shocked, her jaw dropping as she realized the full extent of the situation, not nearly enough time to push Short off of her and get him to safety.

The grenade detonated. With a muffled thump.

And Sergeant Gunn, who had managed to throw himself on top of the grenade at the last second, fell back down to the deck.

* * *

><p>(I just...I just...wow...see you guys next week for the epilogue, I'll explain everything there.)<p> 


	16. Epilogue

(And here we are, folks! God-almighty, it only seems like yesterday when I started screwing around on my computer, trying to come up with an idea for a story to keep me occupied during the summer. And now we're at the end of that long road. I am proud to have been the source of all of your happiness and to have received such gracious praise. I'd especially like to thank all the commentors from Equestria Daily, whom I have not mentioned nearly enough. But, to thank my FF reviewers, I will now post this story's last round of-

**Responses!**

But this time, I'm not going to simply nitpick through you all. I don't have enough time in the day to comment on just how much you all have said about the last chapter, and so I'm only going to say one thing;

My...God. You've all been giving me such good ideas and heartfelt praise, but I've seen at least a few of you not afraid to pull punches to critique me and catch my mistakes. And for that I'm most grateful, because if you can't be honest enough with your friends to expect them to catch your mistakes, then who -can- you trust? And I feel like you -all- are my friends after this.

*Twilight pops in*

T:"Are you stealing my thunder?"

WH: "Wha-no! Of course not!"

T: "You are! That was so a friendship speech! Get over here you-"

WH: "Ah! Not the transformation spell again! Please, I don't want to be a peace-loving hippie!"

* * *

><p><strong>Guardians<strong>

**Epilogue**

Sugarcube Corner, Ponyville

1 month later

"_-and we're very glad to be joined by today's guest, the 'Hero of Stalliongrad,' newly promoted Field Marshal Eagle Eye! You listeners don't wanna know what I had to do to get him on the program! Marshal, we're glad to have you here at the studio."_

"_Thank you for having me, Miss Scratch. It means a lot to me and all the soldiers around Equestria."_

"_Now, Marshal. We're all wondering which direction the Royal Army is moving in ever since you stopped that nasty invasion in Stalliongrad. Care to give us any details?"_

"_Well, first of all Miss Scratch-"_

"_Please, call me Vinyl!"_

"_Alright, Miss Vinyl. First of all, there has been no proof to suggest that the commander of those ships was acting on official orders from the Hegemony or if he was a rogue operative. Regardless, I'm afraid I'll have to dismiss any claims made about the political situation between Equestria and Canida."_

"_Awesome, secretive nature! Getting into some black ops, are we Marshal?"_

"_I'm not at liberty to say, Vinyl. Anyway, you can start referring to the military as the Equestrian Royal Armed Forces once again. I'm proud to announce that following last week's edict by Princess Celestia and a few amendments from Princess Luna, all branches have been restored."_

"_Oooh, how radical!"_

"_Indeed. Thanks to several recent factors and events, the Air Force and Magic Corps have been reinstated, and we already have several hundred applicants to go through, as well as several thousand new enlistees for the Army."_

"_Now, I've heard plans for a Navy to be constructed in case of threats from across the ocean. Any word on that?"_

"_I'm afraid I can't say much, Vinyl. What I –can- tell you is that you can expect to see a few more sailor ponies in and around the ports in the coming months."_

"_Rad, rad, radical! Marshal you're just awesome at suspense! Now, a few listeners have submitted questions over the phone, and I've chosen one for our Fans' Minute. It reads 'is being the commander of the Recon Commandos an exciting job?'"_

"_Vinyl, you and all your listeners should know by now that any information regarding RAIC troopers and their activities is strictly classified, as it has been since they were announced one month ago. But yes, commanding the Army is an eventful job, one I can't actually talk about either. I will instead say that in the aftermath of the Battle at Stalliongrad the Armed Forces are receiving more funding in the next year than in the last five centuries combined."_

"_And everypony will be happy to make the donations necessary to ensure that our country is kept safe, I just know it! This has been Vinyl Scratch, AKA DJ-PON3 with Field Marshal Eagle Eye, Equestria's newest hero! He'll be going on tour to all garrisons around Equestria with Princess Luna starting next week, so if you want to submit your application to enlist with the big shots themselves, look up your tour day, TO-day! Marshal, thank you once again for coming onto the show!"_

"_My pleasure, Vinyl."_

Twilight reached up, smiling lightly as she turned off the radio set. It was good to hear that Eagle Eye had gotten the position. She'd recommended it for him herself to Princess Luna, who had been eager to find a real commander to take the vacant position of Field Marshal.

"So, that was the infamous Colonel-I mean…Field Marshal Eagle Eye. Came quite a long way in a mere month, wouldn't you say?"

Twilight glanced over her shoulder at Rarity, currently munching on a sugar-free brownie levitating in front of her, held up by a magical aura. The vain fashion mare had been on a bit of a dietary binge after weighing herself and finding that she'd gained two pounds since her last time on the scales three months ago. After that, she'd panicked and immediately switched her eating habits. But Twilight knew she'd eventually calm down, realize that her outfits were still perfectly sized to her and start eating normally again, albeit with a little more caution.

Currently the fashionista was watching Twilight carefully, blue eyes taking note of the mage's expression. Said unicorn grimaced, knowing what Rarity's scrupulous gaze would find; bags under her eyes, ruffled coat, messy mane. Maybe a nervous twitch every now and then, just to mix it up a little. In truth, Twilight knew how haggard she looked, and hadn't planned to go out today. Still, she knew that she had to leave the library at some point. Fortunately, she didn't have to face everypony as soon as she'd stepped out the door. Pinkie Pie was in the back room right now making a new batch of cupcakes, Fluttershy was out with Big Macintosh (the two of them made such a cute couple) and Applejack was busy working the fields with Caramel. But the biggest issue was with Rainbow Dash. Or rather, between her and Applejack. The blue Pegasus wasn't around anymore, having left a few weeks back. Not that she'd moved away, exactly, but things would never be the same…

"Darling, you simply look a dreadful mess. Why haven't you been out and about, it's been months since you got back!"

"-A- month, Rare." Twilight shrugged, taking her seat again, feeling her back slump a little. Quickly, she corrected that, sitting up straight. "I dunno. It's just been hard, readjusting."

"Twilight, you speak as if you were at war for years. You were only in Stalliongrad for two days. I know you had a hard time, but I can tell there's something else bothering you."

"Rarity. Please. Not now."

The white unicorn watched her dear friend, quite concerned, before she nodded and smiled sadly, brownie forgotten on her plate. "Of course, dear. I don't mean to push; I'm just trying to help."

Twilight sighed, setting her head on the table. "I know, Rarity. But please…right now, I don't want anypony's help."

* * *

><p><span>Hoovsin Bay, Southeast Equestria<span>

Naval Storage Harbor (Deactivated)

Housing the Hoovsin Bay Reserve Fleet

These ships were centuries old. It was a wonder, Luna considered, that their wooden hulls hadn't rotted out yet, but Hoovsin Bay was near Savanneigh, and the 7th Battalion had at least a few unicorns who kept the ships maintained, at least holding back the stresses of time until these ships could be properly scuttled and disassembled into Equestria's resources, the pieces probably ending up in an industrial yard in Seaddle or even in Fillydelphia. Stalliongrad certainly wouldn't be processing anything for a long time, meaning that Equestria had lost a lot of industry.

Luna huffed. She had her work cut out for her.

Still, she trotted forward down the pier, examining the ships she passed by. They were old steam galleons, relics of a time long past. Compared to the naval forces of today, they weren't even seaworthy, much less able to go to war. No armor, primitive cannons, engines of nowhere near the same efficiency as today-scratch that, she thought as she saw that most of the ships were missing their engines. Probably pulled for factory duty somewhere up north.

Yes, Luna knew these ships would never sail to war again. And yet there were so many pieces of history here, kept locked up in this barely maintained base, little more than an Army Harbor Watch outpost now. But, with the Royal Navy reactivated, they needed warships from somewhere.

"Your Majesty," said her personal bodyguard, a Pegasus stallion named Stormchaser, dressed in his golden armor with a captain's blue star on the breastplate. "Why are we here? I thought today's task was in reconstructing the Navy." Stormchaser was a grizzled veteran, a stallion who'd worked his way up the ranks. Though highly trained for most of their lives, most Royal Guards were reviewing battlefield procedures once more and updating their tactics based on the Army's experiences around Stalliongrad. They were the veterans now, the ones to call on when battlefield veterancy was needed, but Stormchaser had a small problem with humility. As such, he was bold and blunt, two traits Luna liked in a bodyguard. She needed someone to question her constantly and tell her she was wrong, or she was liable to not realize it herself.

"And we are, Storm. It's all here. The Oatlahoma, Neighvada, Ponyvania. Even the Marizona, once considered queen of the high seas." Of course, as Luna gazed up at the fearsome dreadnought, she knew that one torpedo to her copper-plated keel and the floating pile of matchsticks was done for. She was little better than target practice now.

"And so?" pressed Stormchaser, frowning under his plumed helmet.

"And so, Storm. We will finally scuttle these ships and make way for the new Hoovsin Bay Naval Yard. I hear there's actually a small job shortage in Savanneigh and the surrounding countryside?"

"We were planning to introduce some new greenhouses to make up for the deficit."

"Well, forget that. We need dockworkers, ponies who know how to work with their hooves. They may not yet know steel, but they'll learn. And we've got plenty of experienced labor from Stalliongrad up north. You see, Storm, this is our beginning. I've been doing endless reading on the naval ships of today, and I do believe I can resurrect Her Majesty's Royal Navy to once more become the most powerful in the world."

She glanced over at Stormchaser, who was, understandably, looking quite dubious and dumbfounded. Poor stallion, was probably wondering if he should call for a therapist for the moon princess. "Uh…beg pardon, ma'am. But how are you going to do that with these wrecks? And against the Canid Fleet?"

"It's simple!" And with that, Luna's horn glowed, a purple bolt leaping out to strike against the side of the Marizona. Where her magic touched, the wood seemed to shiver, slightly, before it began crumbling away, faster and faster, the countless years of sitting in the warm ocean air finally taking their toll as the unicorn magic was reversed, the cautious repairs made by the Harbor Watch being undone. In mere minutes, the ship listed to port, but then began to sink, slowly, as the hull began to shrink away, enormous holes creeping across the wood. Before the top mast could touch the water, it too was consumed by the spell as the Marizona simply faded from existence.

"Well, that was easy. I'm surprised Tia didn't come down here and do that herself," Luna commented casually, flicking a forelock as Stormchaser stared on in alarm. "Anyway, as I was saying, once we scuttle this decrepit old group of sticks, we can resurrect it! Update and rebuild every ship! You see, despite all the centuries since the Navy has gone to sea, combat on the water has changed very little. Oh, there's new things to consider like anti-air, torpedoes, finding submarines with depth charges, but in essence tactics are the same. Therefore, once we rebuild we simply sail with the same methods we used generations ago. No need to study and rewrite. Of course, our new hulls will be steel instead of wood, but I do believe that once the yard is established, we'll have what we need to begin work on our first few capital ships." Luna turned to Stormchaser once more, an eyebrow raised. "And our first project; the dreadnought Marizona in her new form." Of course, finding the plans for a completely modern battleship shouldn't be too hard thanks to the assistance of a small nation of spies known as Viperia…

* * *

><p><span>Cloudsdale, somewhere over Equestria<span>

Campbit Air Force Base (reactivated)

7th Wing, Royal Equestrian Air Force (reactivated)

Basic Training, Day 24

Princesses, it hurt like hay.

Dash was definitely a physically adept pony, as she would be the first to brag. Long days spent training for her shot at the Wonderbolts had left her toned and muscular, nimble and fast. She'd prepared her entire childhood and adult life to achieve her dream and eventually wear the blue uniform bedecked in lightning bolts and fly alongside General Spitfire, Colonel Surprise and Major Soarin...

Of course, that was much more feasible now, after the demotions.

Thanks to General Spitfire's laxity and carelessness in ordering an attack that caused unnecessary casualties, she'd been slapped with voluntary manslaughter and criminal negligence. Her punishment? Demotion from general all the way back to Flight Lieutenant in the new Air Force, after sixty days in military prison. Soarin and Surprise got a lighter sentence, only being charged with criminal negligence and demoted to Flight Lieutenant as well. Every other Wonderbolt had received the same fate, whether they had been in Stalliongrad or not, and they all had to bow before the new Air Marshal; Gale Rush.

Her mother.

In Pegasi culture, names were a confusing issue. For example, there were no 'last' names, and families simply named their foals whatever they could think of. Oh, sure. There were exceptions as earth pony culture overlapped with them. That Wing Commander Leeroy Wingkins, for example, in command of the 9th Bomber Wing. But Dash's family was a proper Pegasus one, of course, and that meant that they mixed and matched their names so often that nopony knew -what- to call them.

"Hey! Are you lollygagging, **_maggot_**?"

Dash knew what was coming, and felt the blow to her back as she staggered, forcing herself back up again as she strained. Her wings were strapped to her sides, much like Applejack had done in the Running of the Leaves, and over her back had been draped a set of saddlebags with two enormous bricks of lead. Except here, fortunately, they weren't expected to run mile after mile in a marathon (thank Celestia for that...). Instead, this little jaunt was all about endurance in the hot sun, unblocked by clouds over Cambit AFB. So far, the other Pegasi recruits alongside her had been going at this for over an hour, and already they all looked ready to faint.

The Training Instructors (or TIs are they were called) were especially ruthless in this part of what had become Dash's new life. In the morning, before dawn, they were rousted from their cloud bunks and ordered into assembly in a set time. If they failed, they had to go without breakfast that day, and everypony went hungry (they'd gotten over that little problem fast, and were now practically in assembly in their sleep). Then came morning exercises...which was where they were today.

A whistle suddenly blew, and the TIs all stopped skulking around like a pack of wolves (that comparison was actually rather ironic at this point) and the Senior Training Instructor (no, not referred to as STI, they made a point of making that different) Flight Sergeant Lightning Squall let the whistle drop from her lips.

"Alright!" the orange Pegasus called out, looking over the gasping group of recruits. "Take five, lose the lead, get some water. But if I see -anypony- drop their bag through a cloud, they'll have to gallop around the fort -twice- while we watch."

Squall was a harsh mare, a sergeant in the Royal Army before the Battle of Stalliongrad. As one of the 89th who had survived, she'd actually enjoyed watching the Wonderbolts get deposed and turned into common soldiers again thanks to Spitfire's mistake, and her high performance scores and good record had gotten her fast-tracked to the Basic Flier Training Program. In the Army's words, it was boot camp for Pegasi.

Dash gasped as she felt the saddlebags being lifted from her back by two TIs, grateful at last for the chance to walk without effort and finally spread her wings again...but Squall never gave the order for the bindings to come off, so they didn't, leaving every recruit standing around on the cloud, waiting while another TI started down the line with levitating canteens, courtesy of the Magic Corps. Dash gratefully reached out, sipping at her own despite the fact that her throat roared with thirst. She wouldn't make the same mistake many other fresh recruits had made, in which they gulped and gulped and in the end just wound up swallowing a lot of their water without banishing the thirst.

After five minutes, Squall finally recalled the canteens with a single piping note from her command whistle, and all the magical vessels drifted away towards their collection bins. Fortunately, most of the recruits were now watered up and prepared for the next challenge.

"Alright," said Flight Sergeant Squall, standing before the recruits with her eyes set, squinting under her blue duty cap at the uniformed recruits (uniform, sure. Training duds meant a one piece jumpsuit that covered everything from flank to neck. Dash was looking forward to when they would finally don their skintight flight suits). "Now, so far we've gone through three weeks of physical training, history classes and familiarity with regulations. Tell me, platoon, who was the second in command of the 7th Wing at the Battle of Crazy Horse Ridge?"

"Captain Thunderhead, Instructor!" the recruits all chorused back.

"Good! Let's go with some modern news, shall we? What is Canida's take on the Battle of Stalliongrad?"

This one was an individual question, and it was up to the fliers to take a step forward and announce the answer. Fortunately, Dash knew this one, and she moved faster than anypony else to answer it. "Ma'am, Canida announced in an official statement that, thanks to communication errors, they were not informed that the Howloween Night and the Seawolf had gone rogue and deserted to attack Stalliongrad. As such, they thank Equestria for bringing these pirates to justice!"

"Thank you, Recruit. Step back."

Dash did so, retaking her place in the line and resisting the urge to smile smugly.

"All you need to know, fliers, is that war is on the horizon. I know it, the Princesses know it, hay even the whole bucking -world- knows it. But I need to make sure that -you- know it. So today, we'll be hitting the target ranges and familiarizing you with your new service weapons! Let's go, hooves up! One two, one two! Hustle, fliers, you can't land without strong legs!"

Yes, Dash thought, basic training was killing her. But it was her new dream now, to replace her old, shattered one.

* * *

><p><span>Stalliongrad, Northern Equestria<span>

Ruins of the 71st Royal Army Battalion's Garrison (former)

One Week Later

The turnout had been incredible.

As well as the survivors from the battalion, several thousand civilians (most of whom were workers who had returned to show their thanks) and dozens of griffons had appeared for the service. That was expected of course, so many ponies were grateful for the time the 71st had bought with their annihilation.

But, most surprising of all, were the enormous amounts of other soldiers there. Most were from the Army, of course, but there were also several from the newly restored Air Force and Magic Corps, as well as a line of sailors and marines from the Royal Navy (who, lacking ships, had taken over the Harbor Watch's responsibilities for the time being).

Everypony who wore a uniform wore it crisp and clean, proud and respectful. Air Force flyers were bedecked in deep blue while mages from the newly reopened university of the Magic Corps had bright green jackets and the tall, stoic marines bore the royal red alongside their tight-lipped, white-clad Navy brethren. But even though this colorful rainbow of uniforms made a solid block of the crowd, they were literally swallowed up by the sheer mass of Army tan dress outfits, black caps and belts marking row after row, white sashes draped across shoulders and over chests. The entire 102nd had shown up, for they were the most accessible (made simple by the fact that they had taken over the duties of guarding the remains of Stalliongrad) and several other groups were represented as well.

But instead of socializing, the mass of spectators stood in silence, in the mud. Nopony offered a single complain about the wet ground, or their wrecked surroundings or even to the frigid air that still could not be tamed by Weather Control (practically slaved to work in order to clear up the smoke and airborne debris from the battle). They were all rigid, facing forward with solemn expressions.

It was an obelisk, what stood before them. A great, tall obelisk that stood before the garrison's gates, in the center of what had once been an ugly killing ground. Now, for the sake of decency, the trenches had been filled in, the bunkers cleared away and the barbed wire taken down. But the obelisk stood as an obvious testament to what had happened at the crumbling walls behind it. Made of rich, strong obsidian, it was protected by a powerful alicorn spell, which would preserve the stone and the words written upon it through the rigors of time and ward off weathering. Carved upon its flat, black surface were the names of every single trooper who had died in the Battle of Stalliongrad, as the engagement was being called. Almost fifteen hundred ponies had been confirmed as killed in action, with the last remnants crawling out near the end, once the diamond dogs had been routed and left the city.

But there was only one name that newly promoted Sergeant Short Stop was interested in, and he kept his eyes fixed on its location, near the middle of the list. Sure, he would never forget all those who had given their lives to defend their homes, but he was here to honor the stallion who had been by his side nearly his entire service.

Hanging from his uniform, the starburst and oak clusters of the Merit of Valor glistened. This was only the second time he wore it, the first being when it was pinned on him. Every other pony in the 71st wore it as well, for bravery displayed in the face of overwhelming odds and the courage to stand in front of sure death. But Short didn't want the medal. He only wanted his sergeant back.

Before the assembled crowd, Princess Celestia stood in front of the statue at a microphone stand, her customary happy smile and wise airs gone. In their place, a grim and resolved expression was left, making her seem far more intimidating than any other time Short had seen her on the television. She wasn't here to spread happiness or to bless a town with the rising of the sun. Her flowing mane and tail, which had flowed with light in all her other appearances, were softly waving, devoid of any glow whatsoever. To see the Princess down here, in the mud and the sludge of the garrison ruins was a shock to everypony, Short especially.

The Princess began her speech with a deep sigh and a shake of her head. Her horn glowed, and from the stand's top a sheaf of paper flew off it, cast to the winds. "I can't do this," she said aloud. A murmur began in the crowd as the various ponies began muttering to each other, shocked beyond belief. Was the monarch refusing to do the speech?

Fortunately, Celestia continued. "That speech that my advisor wrote, it isn't me. I can't go on pretending this was some hour of glory and there were angels descending from On High with trumpets behind our bold soldiers as they fearlessly held the line. I may not have been here, but I know that's not what happened, and I can't say that." She shook her head again, slowly, stepping out from behind the pedestal and projecting her voice quite naturally as she paced across the platform. "So I'm going to speak quite frankly. I've heard that soldiers tend to prefer that. This unprovoked attack wasn't a diamond dog uprising like Canida is calling it. It was a deliberate action that has dragged us into conflict. It's already cost us three thousand soldiers, seven thousand police officers and twenty-four thousand civilians, all dead. This city is in ruins and the majority of the civilian population have been evacuated while reconstruction and insurgent sweeps occur. And all for what?"

The princess paused here, gazing out on the stony faces of the silent crowd with something akin to pleading, as if begging them to tell her that the victory had been worth the lives that had been paid for them. But Short had no answers, and neither did Corporal Azure Cobalt next to him, as the two glanced at each other before looking back. Azure, like him, had recovered from her wounds thanks to unicorn magic and a lot of bedrest, but she'd also received the Purple Heart for sustaining wounds in a combat action. Before today, she hadn't even taken it out of the box. They both hated their medals.

"These ponies gave their lives to buy the time needed for reinforcements to arrive. Any other unit would have fled, but because they were disciplined and dedicated to their duty, they held the line despite the savage losses that were inflicted upon them. They were outnumbered ten to one with nowhere to go, but they did not retreat. All to save the city and keep the rest of the civilians safe. Now, instead of the entire city destroyed, only a single district has sustained large ruination. We will rebuild. But this attack served as a wake up call to us."

There we go, thought Short, smiling a little as Celestia's head rose, her expression going from depressed and pleading to hard and authoritative.

"Ask yourselves for a second, everypony. If we had kept a fully active military and continued our long history of dominance instead of disbanding the armed forces, would it have happened like this? Would it have happened at all? I got lax, and the ponies of this city paid for it. It will -not- happen again. Don't forget those who sacrificed themselves to give Equestria a chance here," and Short could have sworn Princess Celestia had looked over straight at -him- but he may have just been imagining it "And above all do -not- forget the living."

* * *

><p>The cafe's name was the Brass Saddle, he saw now. Interesting how Stalliongrad's metalworking industry was so deeply integrated that it stretched across the entire city, even here in the Residential Sector.<p>

Short glanced down at his salt lick, sighing as he leaned down and gave it another taste. Despite the sharp, stinging bite of the salt rocks on his tongue and the sour taste melting in his mouth, it didn't make him feel any better.

"Good speech," said Azure from next to him, nursing her own salt lick. "Nice and short, but she was sincere about every word." After the ceremony, the soldiers had all gone their own ways, heading to socialize and have one final lick before they were forced to go back to their bases. With the military in full swing to wake up again, it was all hooves on deck to try and catch up.

But Short and Azure would be waiting for quite a while. They were one of the few heading out towards Canterlot, as it turned out, and Colonel Di'ac had arranged for a train to come pick them up in a few hours. The 71st didn't exist anymore, of course. There were too few survivors to try and reform it, and the soldiers left had been further split apart by the dismantling of the various branches to reform their own services. The Sky Corps fliers became Air Force, the Section Five battlemages went to the Magic Corps and those few surviving Harbor Watch troopers were inducted into the new Navy. Of course, the Army stayed the Army, no changing that. But some ponies had been selected to become Marines, and so their pool had shrunk even more, until it was just a few dozen left. Too few to build an entire battalion out of.

And so, they were drawn into the 105th, based in Canterlot. Their own colonel had retired just before war had come to Stalliongrad, so they were in need of a new commander, and with new war preparations they needed more recruits as well to swell up to the necessary regimental size of seven thousand, even after they'd activated their reserves. But word was, there were so many troopers signing up, even more regiments may need to be formed, and Canterlot already had five of them in the city. Rumor had it that the 105th was being reassigned to a border posting.

But Short didn't care. After the battle, everything had fallen apart for him. His mentor was gone, his battalion was practically nonexistent and Twilight had even gone home without ever sending him another letter. He had gone home for a week, of course, but Savanneigh didn't feel like home anymore. He took another lick, a hard one.

Didn't help.

"Watch it, Short," said Azure, her neck displaying the large bullet scar she'd received. She'd become his ASL (assistant squad leader) for Victor squad, and as such remained his voice of reason and restraint, keeping him rooted to reality even in his time of grieving and self doubt. She never called him 'Sarge' either, and while it may seem that they were getting too familiar, they couldn't stomach being formal with each other. So, she called him Short and he called her Azure and nopony complained.

He nodded, pushing the lick away. Already a third of it was gone, and he sighed as he felt the burn of dehydration already beginning to set in. "I'll get some water," he muttered, but he didn't rise. He didn't feel motivated to, didn't feel the drive like he used to when Gunn was still around.

When Twilight was, too...

"Excuse me? I'm looking for Private Stop," said a voice nearby, and Azure glanced over, a look of surprise on the blue draft mare's face. Oddly, she didn't correct whoever it was, and Short groaned, turning his head and snapping "That's -Sergeant- Stop, for your informa-...oh."

There stood Twilight Sparkle, an amused look on her face as she looked Short up and down. He was still in his uniform, of course (sans cap, laying on the counter) but she was dressed in a tasteful purple dress, a short affair that wouldn't look out of place in a formal affair but fortunately kept its elegance in check with no excessive decoration. A simple silver chain hung from her neck, dangling a moon charm, and her eyebrow was raised.

"I think I see Sergeant Sunbeam over there," Azure said quickly, leaving her own salt behind as she quickly moved into the crowd of uniforms, disappearing in the colors.

Twilight stepped over, glancing at the salt lick. Short suddenly felt embarrassed and ran a hoof over the back of his neck, chuckling. "A little, uh...celebratory lick."

"You don't need to explain," said Twilight, not bothering to order a lick herself. She smiled at him again before glancing around the cafe. "Hard to believe this is still Stalliongrad, isn't it?"

"Hard to believe this is still the same year," Short replied, sighing softly. "It feels like ages since that day."

"I know what you mean..." Twilight murmured. Short heard her, as he suspected. "And I need to apologize, Short."

He frowned, looking back at her. "For what? You didn't do anything wrong."

"I never replied to your letters."

Short winced. He'd sent her three letters, using the address she'd given him. The public library, Ponyville, out in western Equestria. He'd always sent two copies, just in case (Twilight had warned him that Ditzy, the local mailmare, had a habit of accidentally mixing up the letters, thanks to her tweaked eyesight. She was a good carrier, it seemed, but had a case of dyslexia). But there had been no reply.

"Hey, it's alright."

"No, it's not."

"You were probably busy. Celestia can't count on just Luna to help her out, and her Grand Adviser is a sentimental romantic idiot." Blueblood, of course, had no idea just what the problems of the lower class were, and the rumor was that Celestia had only granted him the position simply to keep him out of trouble. Luna, of course, now held the dual role of both ruling the kingdom alongside Celestia and being Grand Marshal of the Armed Forces. Thanks to her, Equestria was reacting to the attack quickly, its military gearing up and the industry knuckling down to make up for the loss of Stalliongrad's factories.

"I wasn't," Twilight replied, smiling sadly. "I was...I guess you could say I was lost within myself. Ponyville didn't feel the same anymore, and my friends have tried to support me, but they don't understand. And everything's falling apart."

Short nodded, taking a gamble and placing a hoof on her shoulder, which she didn't react to, either positively or negatively. "Hey...if you need somepony to talk to, you know you can come to me."

She nodded again, absently staring into the crowd. It had swelled with civilians as the soldiers left to go back to their postings, and now there were fewer uniforms than there had been even five minutes ago. What few remained were mostly Army soldiers from the 102nd and their supporting fliers in the 9th Bomber Wing and the Navy Harbor Watch (most of whom were getting retrained in combat procedures). But the 102nd didn't have any battlemage support, as they had been a mechanized infantry battalion before the battle. Unicorns had only just begun to stream into the Canterlot Acadamy of Magic Combat (CAMC in military shorthand), and there was a short supply of unicorns who weren't retaking the basic training.

"How's it going with the 105th?"

Short nodded slowly, looking out at the crowd as well. "Alright, I guess. The colonel hasn't actually given me my own squad yet, but I suppose we need to wait for the first platoons to get out of basic training before we actually get some new recruits."

They fell silent after that, not dancing when music came on, not licking salt even when the disgruntled cafe owner came by and took the two unfinished ones. They didn't move from where they were, but they did look at each other. Little peeks and glances that quickly ended with blushes and both parties staring at nothing in particular extremely hard. The party went on into the night before the cafe finally closed, forcing the two of them into the streets again. Nowhere was truly safe in Stalliongrad anymore, even though the 102nd had annihilated the diamond dogs. Small packs still roamed the city at night, hiding from the Army and police as they tried to eke out an existence in the abandoned streets. But neither really cared.

Twilight glanced up at the sky, squinting at the full moon.

"Looks like Luna formed it early," she remarked. Short looked as well, frowning. The moon wasn't supposed to be full for another week, but the Princess of the Night must have completed it for tonight to guide the spirits of the fallen soldiers in the city home. Or so the legends went, anyway.

"Yeah..." he replied, then sighed. "Twilight, when are we going to stop this?"

She halted, a frown on her face. "Stop what?" she asked, in a tone that told Short she knew exactly what he was speaking of.

"We're dancing on eggshells around each other. Look, I know what happened has changed us, but it's not something we can't overcome. After everything we went through, everything we shared about ourselves, we can't go on pretending like it didn't happen."

Twilight glanced away. "Short, I can't. I'm too muddled up, too confused. I..."

"You're having nightmares, right?"

She nodded, still not looking at him.

"I did too, after my first fight. Cave skirmish, had to drive out some sirens who were sinking cargo ships and eating the crews. I couldn't sleep for weeks, was afraid to go anywhere without a little be of light."

Twilight finally looked back at him now, illuminated in the snowy street, tan uniform stretched tight over his frame, black cap perched between his ears and a dead serious look on his face. "Really? You?"

"Of course. True bravery isn't a lack of fear. It's the ability to act in spite of it. If you don't fear things, you make stupid mistakes. I was absolutely horrified by what I saw down there, afraid something was going to jump me everytime I turned out the lights. I still am, to some extent. It won't go away completely, but there is a way to make it better."

Here, the purple mage finally turned to face the grey soldier, an inquisitive and hopeful look in her eyes. "There is? What is it?"

"Having somepony there to help you through it." Here, Short reached up, lightly trailing his hoof along her jaw. "Gunn saw that I was having problems and sat me down one day. We talked for hours, well into the night. When we finally stopped, I suddenly realized how dark it was and how tired I was. But I wasn't afraid at that point. I went to sleep and I stayed there for hour until reveille." He smiled, his hoof ceasing its motion. "I'm not asking for much, Twilight. I can't really. We're an hour's flight apart and I'll be going who knows where soon-"

"I know where," she said softly, fortunately still smiling, eyes glittering in the moonlight. Short raised an eyebrow, pulling his hoof back and studying her closely before the pieces came together, and he risked his guess.

"Ponyville."

She blushed a little, glancing away for a second. "The Everfree Forest is a bit dangerous, and so is Froggy Bottom Bog. The mayor requested a military presence in the region for security, since we're also a bit close to the border and...well..."

"No. You didn't!"

"I did," she said, grinning sheepishly and letting a little giggle escape her. "She OKed it almost instantly. You're shipping out as soon as you get your new recruits!"

Short's jaw was hanging open in disbelief, and he glanced at the cobblestones with wides eyes. "Dang...but what about fortifications?"

"Already built. You'll be stationed in Glass Grass Fields, just a few miles outside of town. Nopony uses the place, and the wide expanses are perfect, so I called in a little favor from Lieutenant Conway-"

"Conway's a -Lieutenant?-" Short blurted out, staring at the student with wide eyes. She burst out laughing at this point, holding her sides as she chortled, so amused by his astonishment.

"Yes, he is! Anyway, I asked him to spare me a few of his experienced unicorns, and the palisade is already set up. All we need now is-"

Whatever the regiment needed, however, was a topic left for another time. But it would be a long while before Twilight and Short got over the shock of the kiss that he had abruptly pressed to her lips. It had been a reaction, completely unintentional, but as soon as he'd done it he knew it felt just right. And Twilight, once she'd realized what had happened, went along with it, pressing back against him.

The two kissed under the moonlight, both of them feeling more alive in the last few minutes than they had for an entire month.

* * *

><p><span>Ottapaw, Canida<span>

Parliament, Prime Minister Mation's Office

"Mister Prime Minister, I have no excuse or explanation. The operation's fault lay with the issues in the chain of command, not personal grievances."

"That's what you keep telling me, Captain! And yet, the Howloween Night is in pieces at the bottom of the harbor in Stalliongrad, the diamond dogs have been utterly annihilated by the Royal Army, and the Seawolf is now in enemy paws...hooves…hands! Do you realize what a catastrophe this is?" Prime Minister Dale Mation, already exhausted from the lack of sleep over the last few weeks, fell back into his chair, drained beyond belief.

"Ulrich...I know you tried your best, and things got complicated. But the point of the matter is, I -cannot- give you back your rank. Someone had to pay for what happened, and you were the only one to return. I'm sorry for all the negative attention that's come your way, but its out of my paws."

Captain Ulrich Boxer, feeling the stinging burn of shame coursing through him, simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The entire mission had gone pear shaped, and the Admiralty had pinned him with six or seven different charges, each one that could potentially see him executed. But, he'd simply been demoted to Captain and put on official reprimand and report. At this point, anymore screwups would definitely see him getting a bullet.

A little harsh for a single mission gone wrong, but everyone in the higher echelons of the Hegemonic military was freaking out, trying to keep everything together even as the prospect of war loomed on the horizon. Fighting Equestria by itself in a conventional battle would have been easy enough, even with their witches and warlocks. But the fact that two demi-goddesses were rulers of the Kingdom was enough of a terrifying prospect that even Chewchill was beginning to balk at the thought of war. Add to that the fact that every other nation not in the Hegemony was announcing their loyalty and allegiance to either Equestria or Hippogryph, and it seemed like the entire world was out to spill some canine blood.

Yes, Boxer knew why he'd been demoted. But he also knew that he could still redeem himself.

"Well then, Mr. Prime Minister. What happens now?"

Mation nodded, slowly, leaning forward and pressing the button on his desk intercom. "Luise, send him in."

Boxer raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

The Prime Minister turned to the captain, his face set in stone. "The President has issued me a challenge, Ulrich. He knows the risks that fighting a multi-front war could impose, not just the chance of defeat but also victory with a ruined economy. He -was- a Fleet officer, after all, he knows something of tactics. He wants to ensure that when war -does- break out there will not be an allied front in the south."

Boxer raised his other eyebrow. Cause a split between Steelclaw and the Princesses? That was a tall order.

"To assist you, I've called in another operator. I'm aware that you're acquainted."

Before the disgraced commander could ask for clarification, there was a rapping at the door, light enough to not be intrusive, but loud enough to make its presence known. Mation called out "Enter."

The door swung open to reveal a wide, inquisitive face, dressed in a plain uniform like Boxer himself, alert and aware eyes dancing back and forth between the captain and the Prime Minister, and as the Catahoula Cur shut the door behind him, Boxer felt his hackles raise and let out a sharp snarl.

"You!" he snapped, his teeth now bared. Dirk Frost simply nodded stiffly before he turned, saluting crisply to Mation.

"Major Dirk Frost, reporting as ordered, sir."

"MAJOR? You promoted this idiot?" Boxer snapped, astonished, shocked and betrayed at the same time. He was usually able to hold onto his emotions relatively well, but this was just crossing the damn line!

"Captain! You will settle down! Major Frost's team accomplished their mission perfectly with few slip-ups and light casualties. The residents of Hoofington are even now being relocated to Ottapaw as we speak. You, on the other paw, lost two ships, thousands of crewmen, hundreds of Marines, your entire team and tipped off Equestria as to our plans-yes, I KNOW it's not your fault!"

Boxer snarled again, his ears pinned back. There was nothing he could say, it seemed. The Prime Minister's mind was already made up.

"Now, gentlemen. If you'll kindly take your seats, we can get started."

Dirk Frost glanced at Boxer coolly, reminding the disgraced dog of when they'd both served in the Marines. The bastard was always the perfectionist, the goody-two shoes, the factoid book. In other words, a REMF's dream. No wonder he'd been promoted.

"So, Berzerker. I guess we'll be working together again."

Frost extended his paw, and Boxer stared at it for a second, feeling the urge to bite it off.

In the end, he simply clasped his own paw around it, staring Frost in the eye.

"Indeed, Ice Dagger. Just like old times."

* * *

><p><span>Canterlot, Royal Palace<span>

Royal Labyrinth, Statue Collection

Hmm?

What was this?

Was it finally time? It WAS, it was finally time! The spell around his prison was finally shattering, about to let him go free! And it was now time to go and spread so much chaos and disorder through the world-

What? Oh no, this wouldn't do at all. Looks like Celestia went and screwed up, and badly too.

The world's already in Discord.

The stone cracked before him.

But it could always use a little more.

* * *

><p>(Wow. Here we are, at the end of this tale of intrigue and fabulous settings. And now, I find I must close this tale at last. But not forever.<p>

On that note, unfortunately…

Tomorrow, I will go with my friend to the US Army National Guard enlistment office. I'm signing up. And that is where I am in my life now. But fear not, I will not depart for basic training quite yet. I will still be around for at least three more months, as I refuse to leave my family for Christmas when I have the choice. But that does mean a whole three to five more months where I am not writing at my computer.

But fear not, my friends. For when I return, I shall once more pick up my keyboard and type again. I say this will all humor and ridiculousness aside, for I am actually being sincere, and you have my sincerest apologies for my not informing you, my faithful fanbase.

For this, however, I give you an ultimatum; I can potentially complete the second story in time. A chapter a week, every Friday morning (West Coast time, of course). This will, however, mean shorter chapters, which will definitely be easier for me to type in the time I have here.

Or, I can keep at the longer chapters and the unknown schedule, getting as much done as I can and resuming on my return. It is all up to you, my readers.

I know this may seem incredibly unfair to you, and I do apologize for that. If you wish to stop reading after this, I don't blame you in the slightest. But I still stand by my decision.

To ease your pain, on the otherhand, I can give you a small treat with the official summary of Ceasefire, which is posted below. It will be posted along with the story, but this will give you some idea of what is to come, whenever it does.)

* * *

><p>Six months after the Battle of Stalliongrad, the world is teetering on the brink of all out war. As Equestria scrambles to rearm and readjust their weapons and tactics for modern warfare, the Hippogryph Matriarchy begins eying up its neighbors, trying to decide who would be more delicious to take a bite out of; dog or horse. Meanwhile, up north, Canida is on the verge of complete civil war, so panicked are they in going up against two powers, one of which is ruled by goddesses. Prime Minister Mation, however, has a plan to tip the scales with the help of disgraced and demoted Captain Ulrich Boxer, mad for revenge. Twilight Sparkle has been irrevocably changed by her time on the line, and is plagued by visions and nightmares, distancing herself from her friends, which is destroying the close bonds of the Elements of Harmony and their friendship. To top it off, Sergeant Short Stop is assigned to Ponyville with an entire battalion to defend the town, and everything in the world just seems to be spiraling out of control. Who will suffer when it all comes to a head, and who will finally come out on top?<p> 


End file.
